In a London Drawingroom

Mary Anne Evans, better known by her pen name George Eliot, was an English novelist, journalist and translator, and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era.






The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
  For view there are the houses opposite
  Cutting the sky with one long line of wall
  Like solid fog: far as the eye can stretch
  Monotony of surface & of form
  Without a break to hang a guess upon.
  No bird can make a shadow as it flies,
  For all is shadow, as in ways o'erhung
  By thickest canvass, where the golden rays
  Are clothed in hemp. No figure lingering
  Pauses to feed the hunger of the eye
  Or rest a little on the lap of life.
  All hurry on & look upon the ground,
  Or glance unmarking at the passers by
  The wheels are hurrying too, cabs, carriages
  All closed, in multiplied identity.
  The world seems one huge prison-house & court
  Where men are punished at the slightest cost,
  With lowest rate of colour, warmth & joy.

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