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Madison Julius Cawein (Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн) The Rag-Picker A pond of filth a sewer flows into, Around whose edge the evil ragweeds crowd, Poison in every breath; and, cloud on cloud, Insects that sing and sting, the pool's fierce spew: All hideousness, from every street and stew, And every stench weaves for the place a shroud; And in its midst a figure, bent and bowed, A woman who no girlhood ever knew. Some offal of humanity she seems; One with the rags she picks and scrapes among; More soiled, in soul: the veriest rag Of womankind, whose squalor looks and dreams Of nothing higher than the cart that flung Its last load here from which she crams her bag. Madison Julius Cawein's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1197 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |