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 )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Naveed Khalid
(1 January 1903 - 13 March 1976)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Sir Walter Scott
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Ring Out , Wild Bells, Alfred Lord Tennyson
- A Visit from St. Nicholas, Clement Clarke Moore
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas