Poetry Archives

I
        Dawn

The greenish sky glows up in misty reds,
 The purple shadows turn to brick and stone,
The dreams wear thin, men turn upon their beds,
 And hear the milk-cart jangle by alone.


  II
        Dusk

The city’s street, a roaring blackened stream
 Walled in by granite, thro’ whose thousand eyes
A thousand yellow lights begin to gleam,
 And over all the pale untroubled skies.


  III
        Rain at Night

The street-lamps shine in a yellow line
 Down the splashy, gleaming street,
And the rain is heard now loud now blurred
 By the tread of homing feet.