In a London Drawingroom

by George Eliot

　　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.

　　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.