Impression du Matin

THE THAMES nocturne of blue and gold

Changed to a harmony in grey;

A barge with ochre-coloured hay

Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold

The yellow fog came creeping down

The bridges, till the houses’ walls

Seemed changed to shadows, and St. Paul’s

Loomed like a bubble o’er the town.

Then suddenly arose the clang

Of waking life; the streets were stirred

With country waggons; and a bird

Flew to the glistening roofs and sang.

But one pale woman all alone,

The daylight kissing her wan hair,

Loitered beneath the gas lamps’ flare,

With lips of flame and heart of stone.