Poem for the day

Prelude 1

The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o`clock.
The burnt-out ends of smokey days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And news papers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.

And then the lighting of the lamps.

T. S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)

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