Thursday, 20 February 2014

The Thursday Poem

Potted Flowers with Books IV
Eric Barjot

from Preludes

The winter evening settles down
With smells of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
Then the lighting of the lamps.

T.S. Eliot
(26th September 1888 - 4th January 1965)

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