ALL day men walk the city up and down, Shuffling monotonously their weary feet, While pleasure sleeps behind that vague uproar; But sometimes like a lightning flash she flicks Some stagnant soul into a blaze of pain, And shatters the conventional round of toil. But when sick day has staggered his last steps, And night like a black curtain rushes down Upon the city, comes a sudden change: Then pleasure, like a vast cat, stirs herself, And yawning, stretches forth her velvet feet, To grasp the city in her long, curved claws. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE THE WEARY BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES TWILIGHT AT THE HEIGHTS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER LADY OF CASTLENORE; A.D. 1700 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HARVARD DECLARES WAR by BRENT DOW ALLINSON WOODBINES IN OCTOBER by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES TO SIMPLICITY by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |