London

London by A.S.J. Tessimond (1902-1962)

I am the city of two-divided cities

Where the eyes of rich and poor collide and wonder;

Where the beggar's voice is low and unexpectant,

And in the clubs the feet of servants are soft on the carpet

And the world's wind scarcely stirs the leaves of The Times.

I am the reticent, the private city,

The city of lovers hiding wrapped in shadows,

The city of people sitting and talking quietly

Beyond shut doors and walls as thick as a century,

People who laugh too little and too loudly,

Whose tears fall inward, flowing back to the heart.

I am the city whose fog will fall like a finger gently

Erasing the anger of angles, the strident indecorous gesture,

Whose dusk will come like tact, like a change in conversation,

Violet and indigo, with strings of lemon streetlamps

Casting their pools into the pools of rain

As the notes of the piano are cast from the top-floor window

Into the square that is always Sunday afternoon.

2012