Jolt of market-carts; Steady drip of horses' hoofs on hard pavement; A black sky lacquered over with blueness, And the lights of Battersea Bridge Pricking pale in the dawn. The beautiful hours are passing And still you sleep! Tired heart of my joy, Incurved upon your dreams, Will the day come before you have opened to me? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE BOY'S DREAM by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE LAST MAN'S CLUB by JAMES GALVIN WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW LOHENGRIN; PROEM by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JAMES GARBER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |