Dawn

Streak upon streak of turquoise in a sheet of heavy gray, 
A space of shining silver where the clouds are torn away,
Stars growing pale in heaven o'erhead, and, lower down,
A fringe of amber touches the roofs of the sleeping town. 
Shadowy wains and waggoners steal slow and softly by, 
There is no sudden swish of whips, there is no carter's cry. 
Upon the lips that cease from speech, the lids that fain would rest, 
A little wind comes whispering out of the lightless west.
Lamps in the road are quenched and die because the day's begun, 
Although there's half an hour to wait ere men salute the sun. 
Steps of a homeless woman sound hollow down the street, 
Laugh of a man rings noisily where man and woman meet, 
And change with languid eyes and lips a fire of idle words, 
A cry of foolish laughter. 
          Then silence; and the birds.