In a London Drawingroom
The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
For view there are the houses opposite
Cutting the sky with one long line of wall
Like solid fog: far as the eye can stretch
Monotony of surface & of form
Without a break to hang a guess upon.
No bird can make a shadow as it flies,
For all is shadow, as in ways o'erhung
By thickest canvass, where the golden rays
Are clothed in hemp. No figure lingering
Pauses to feed the hunger of the eye
Or rest a little on the lap of life.
All hurry on & look upon the ground,
Or glance unmarking at the passers by
The wheels are hurrying too, cabs, carriages
All closed, in multiplied identity.
The world seems one huge prison-house & court
Where men are punished at the slightest cost,
With lowest rate of colour, warmth & joy.
George Eliot's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (In a London Drawingroom by George Eliot )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Time lapse ("Grey Gardens"), John Taggart
- from "Landscape with Light", John Taggart
- Inside Out, John Taggart
- PH: Limericks (Of Physics) : #1, Brian Johnston
- Slow Song for Mark Rothko, John Taggart
- Refrains for Robert Quine, John Taggart
- Precious Lord, John Taggart
- Needs, Nalini Chaturvedi
- One(1) Classroom, herbert guitang
- Archeologist, Dr PJ Raj Kamal