THE sun's on the pavement, The current comes and goes, And the grey streets of London They blossom like the rose. Crowned with the spring sun, Vistas fair and free; What joy that waits not? What that may not be? The blue-bells may beckon, The cuckoo call—and yet— The grey streets of London I never may forget. O fair shines the gold moon On blossom-clustered eaves, But bright blinks the gas-lamp Between the linden leaves. And the green country meadows Are fresh and fine to see, But the grey streets of London They're all the world to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MARMOZET by HILAIRE BELLOC CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH LETTER TO MAXINE SULLIVAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONG:SO WHY DOES THIS DEAD CARNATION by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE DESIRE OF NATIONS by EDWIN MARKHAM |