The slate-roofs glitter cold and hard.
And people drag their damp-soled feet
Like sacks of dough along the street.
Some orange peel of yesternight
Brightens the gutter’s mud-choked plight.
The ghosts of last night’s riot-spilth
Mingle with puddle, slime and filth.
A lady walks to Church, her pet
White prayer book shielded from the wet.
Umbrella dripping, gloves, frock-coat