Classic Poem

Dim mist of a fog-bound day…
From the lilac trees that droop in St Mary's Square
The dead leaves fall, a silent, shivering, cloud.
Through the grey haze the carts loom heavy, gigantic
Down the dull street. Children at play in the gutter
Quarrel and cry; their voices sound flat and toneless.
With a sound like the shuffling tread of some giant monster
I hear the trains escape from the stations near, and tear their way into the country.
Everything looks fantastic, repellent, I see from my window
And old man pass, dull, formless, like the stump of a dead tree moving.
The virginia creeper, like blood, streams down the face of the houses. .
Even the railings, blackened and sharply defined, look evil and strangely malignant.
…Dim Mist of a fog-bound day,
From the lilac trees that droop in St Mary's Square
The dead leaves fall, a silent, fluttering crowd—
Dead leaves that shivering fall on the barren earth.
…Over and under it all, the muttering murmur of London.