Explore "Piccadilly Circus At Night" by D.H. Lawrence on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
WHEN into the night the yellow light is roused like dust above the towns, / Or like a mist the moon has kissed from off a pool in the midst of the downs,
Our faces flower for a little hour pale and uncertain along the street, / Daisies that waken all mistaken white-spread in expectancy to meet
The luminous mist which the poor things wist was dawn arriving across the sky, / When dawn is far behind the star the dust-lit town has driven so high.
All the birds are folded in a silent ball of sleep, / All the flowers are faded from the asphalt isle in the sea, / Only we hard-faced creatures go round and round, and keep / The shores of this innermost ocean alive and illusory.
Wanton sparrows that twittered when morning looked in at their eyes / And the Cyprian's pavement-roses are gone, and now it is we / Flowers of illusion who shine in our gauds, make a Paradise / On the shores of this ceaseless ocean, gay birds of the town-dark sea.