A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M.
by Amy Lowell
They have watered the streets,
It shines in the glare of the lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies
Like a slow moving river,
Barred with silver and black.
Cabs go down it,
One,
And then another,
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.
Tramps doze on the window-ledges,
Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks.
The city is squalid and sinister,
With the silver-barred street in the midst,
Slow-moving,
A river leading nowhere.
Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-colored night.
She cannot light the city:
It is too bright.
It has white lamps,
And glitters coldly.
I stand in the window and watch the
moon.
She is thin and lustreless.
But I love her.
I know the moon,
And this is an alien city.
You can find this poem in The Complete Poetical Works of Amy Lowell.
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