Preludes by T. S. Eliot

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Preludes

The winter evening settles down
With smell 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.
And then the lighting of the lamps.

T. S. Eliot

Read poems about / on: horse, lonely, winter

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Ria B (2/17/2008 12:20:00 AM)
Yup, he's right. The full version of the poem is listed under Thomas Stearns Eliot.

Max Reif (11/11/2005 10:43:00 AM)
This ain't the whole poem, folks! It's only the prelude to Preludes.

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