2 min read
Слушать(AI)Discharged
Carry me
Into the wind and the sunshine,
Into the beautiful world.
O, the wonder, the spell of the streets!
The stature and strength of the horses,
The rustle and echo of footfalls,
The flat roar and rattle of wheels!
A swift tram floats huge on us . . .
It's a dream?
The smell of the mud in my
Blows brave—like a breath of the sea!
As of old,
Ambulant, undulant drapery,
Vaguery and strangely provocative,
Fluttersd and beckons. O, yonder -Is it?—the gleam of a stocking!
Sudden, a
Wedged in the mist! O, the houses,
The long lines of lofty, grey houses,
Cross-hatched with shadow and light!
These are the streets . . .
Each is an avenue
Whither I will!
Free . . . !
Dizzy, hysterical, faint,
I sit, and the carriage rolls on with
Into the wonderful world.
William Ernest Henley
William Ernest Henley (23 August 1849 – 11 July 1903) was an English poet, writer, critic and editor in late Victorian England. Though he wrote
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Waiting
A square, squat room (a cellar on promotion), Drab to the soul, drab to the very daylight; Plasters astray in unnatural-looking tinware; Scissors and lint and apothecary's jars
Casualty
As with varnish red and Dripped his hair; his feet looked rigid; Raised, he settled stiffly sideways: You could see his hurts were spinal
Visitor
Her little face is like a walnut With wrinkling lines; her soft, white hair Her withered brows in quaint, straight curls, like horns; And all about her clings an old, sweet smell
Lady Probationer
Some three, or five, or seven, and thirty years; A Roman nose; a dimpling double-chin; Dark eyes and shy that, ignorant of sin, Are yet acquainted, it would seem, with tears;
