HE leaned against a lamp-post, lost In some mysterious reverie: His head was bowed; his arms were crossed; He yawned, and glanced evasively: Uncrossed his arms, and slowly put Them back again, and scratched his side -- Shifted his weight from foot to foot, And gazed out no-ward, idle-eyed. Grotesque of form and face and dress, And picturesque in every way -- A figure that from day to day Drooped with a limper laziness; A figure such as artists lean, In pictures where distress is seen, Against low hovels where we guess No happiness has ever been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SWEET STAY-AT-HOME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE GORSE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON CONSECRATION HYMN by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 6. A VISIT FROM THE SEA by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE LAST MAN: SPEAKER'S MEANING DIMLY DESCRIBED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |