Impression du Matin

By re­quest from Wait in the Lobby.

Impression du Matin

The Thames noc­turne of blue and gold
Changed to a Harmony in grey:
A barge with ochre-coloured hay
Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold

The yel­low fog came creep­ing down
The bridges, till the hous­es’ walls
Seemed changed to shad­ows and St. Paul’s
Loomed like a bub­ble o’er the town.

Then sud­den­ly arose the clang
Of wak­ing life; the streets were stirred
With coun­try wag­gons: and a bird
Flew to the glis­ten­ing roofs and sang.

But one pale wom­an all alone,
The day­light kiss­ing her wan hair,
Loitered be­neath the gas lamps’ flare,
With lips of flame and heart of stone.

–Oscar Wilde

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