forkandles

T. S Eliot - Prelude 1:
One of my favourite poems. It is so atmospheric I can almost feel myself in the scene he describes.
Although the scene is from another age it evokes experiences & places from the village in which I spent my early years (no cab-horses or lamplighters though - I'm not that old!). Life seemed more certain & less complicated then.

Anyone recognise the 4th line from anywhere else?



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.