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THEcommon street climbed up against the sky,
Gray meeting gray; and wearily to and fro
I saw the patient, common people go,
Each with his sordid burden trudging by.
And the rain dropped; there was not any sigh
Or stir of a live wind; dull, dull, and slow
All motion; as a tale long told
The faded world; and creeping night drew nigh.
Then burst the sunset, flooding far and flee
Leavening the whole of life with magic leaven.
Suddenly down the long, wet, glistening hill
Pure splendour poured—and lo! the common street,
A golden highway into golden heaven,
With the dark shapes of men ascending still.
— HONE
