Morning at the Window
1888.9.26-1965.1.4
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.
DayPoems Poem No. 2671
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/2671.html">Morning at the Window by Thomas Stearns Eliot</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
Poets Poems