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...ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE FLAME LIGHTS UP by DAVID IGNATOW ONE OF THE LEAST OF THESE, MY LITTLE ONE' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UTOPIA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DAY AND THE WORK by EDWIN MARKHAM |