Elinor Morton Wylie

(7 September 1885 – 16 December 1928 / Somerville, New Jersey)

A Crowded Trolley-Car - Poem by Elinor Morton Wylie

The rain's cold grains are silver-gray
Sharp as golden sands,
A bell is clanging, people sway
Hanging by their hands.

Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff,
Snatch and catch and grope;
That face is yellow-pale, as if
The fellow swung from rope.

Dull like pebbles, sharp like knives,
Glances strike and glare,
Fingers tangle, Bluebeard's wives
Dangle by the hair.

Orchard of the strangest fruits
Hanging from the skies;
Brothers, yet insensate brutes
Who fear each other's eyes.

One man stands as free men stand,
As if his soul might be
Brave, unbroken; see his hand
Nailed to an oaken tree.

Comments about A Crowded Trolley-Car by Elinor Morton Wylie

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: silver, tree, rain, hair, fear, people, car, brother, sky

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

[Hata Bildir]