 | Lyrical Poems |  |
169
THE TOWN
‘Smoke, wealth, and noise,’ the Roman's list,
Exhaust not all the city yields;
The mid-day glare: the hush of night:
The breath of fields
Blown through dim blue-air'd streets at earliest light.
Exhaust not all the city yields;
The mid-day glare: the hush of night:
The breath of fields
Blown through dim blue-air'd streets at earliest light.
There the last shout of parting friends
Hoarse from their wine, and hot retreats,
Joins the fresh chorus they troll forth
Who know the streets
But as the place where labour has its worth.
Hoarse from their wine, and hot retreats,
Joins the fresh chorus they troll forth
Who know the streets
But as the place where labour has its worth.
They care not how the glooms of eve
Behind each dawn their ambush make,
Nor for the narrow toilsome round,
Ache upon ache,
Till the bent limbs crawl to the nameless mound.
Behind each dawn their ambush make,
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Ache upon ache,
Till the bent limbs crawl to the nameless mound.
There some poor wanderer of the ways
Through nursery casement hears the cry
Of restless childhood; and her heart
Sickens to die
At thought how Such thou wast; and this thou art.
Through nursery casement hears the cry
Of restless childhood; and her heart
Sickens to die
At thought how Such thou wast; and this thou art.
Then the cool bathes her face, and hope
And love of life, their strength regain.
And the tide rises in the ways,
And the full main
Of being swells beneath the climbing rays.
And love of life, their strength regain.
And the tide rises in the ways,
And the full main
Of being swells beneath the climbing rays.
The barefoot children on the roads
Shout in shrill hunger playing; weeds
Toss'd random on the waste: while wealth
Her darling leads
Through the fenced paths of happiness and health.
Shout in shrill hunger playing; weeds
Toss'd random on the waste: while wealth
Her darling leads
Through the fenced paths of happiness and health.
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And one is on the chase of gold,
And one for bread he cannot find;
For love, for lust, for foe, for friend:
And each is blind,
Save where his impulse leads, and inner end.
And one for bread he cannot find;
For love, for lust, for foe, for friend:
And each is blind,
Save where his impulse leads, and inner end.
So death and life, and wealth and want,
O'er the long pavements of the town
Fling light with darkness: whilst on high
The sun casts down
The calm observance of his golden eye.
O'er the long pavements of the town
Fling light with darkness: whilst on high
The sun casts down
The calm observance of his golden eye.
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