Sara Teasdale — City Vignettes

I             Dawn The greenish sky glows up in misty reds,    The purple shadows turn to brick and stone, The dreams wear thin, men turn upon their beds,    And hear the milk-cart jangle by alone. II             Dusk The city's street, a roaring blackened stream    Walled in by granite, thro' whose thousand eyes A thousand yellow lights begin to gleam,    And over all the pale untroubled skies. III             Rain at Night The street-lamps shine in a yellow line    Down the splashy, gleaming street, And the rain is heard now loud now blurred    By the tread of homing feet.