The City's rumble brings despair and fear 
To crush my spirit free and wil 
        The rain, 
Reiterated horribly, again 
Beast with its drops at my cold window‑pane 
With such a sound as makes us know it col 
The world is ghostly, undaylike and old, 
And weary passengers, with cautious tread, 
Yet hurried, walk within the streets soul‑dead 
In the unkindness of their hue of lea
The streets are streamlets, and perpetual 
A sound of little waters, on roof, on wall, 
Down in the streets, in pipes, in window‑glass 
And into rooms doth wetly come and pas 
        All is the rain' 
All is pale wetness, darkness inly cold, 
A sentiment of waste things and of old 
Making all things exterior sorrows, pains; 
And all we hear and feel and know and see 
Is wrapt around as with a masking cloak 
In inconceivable monoton
All in the houses and up from the street 
Is a long watery shuffle of heavy feet, 
A sound of drenched garments, and a sense 
Of a sad chillness, latently intens 
Through cracks in doors and windows a gust cold 
Of wind penetrates like a memory of old 
Times to make freeze my body, ill reclined 
Upon a couch, a sufferer with my min
Life in the streets is sad, a monotone 
More dull than usual ordinariness: 
Business and work have lost their usual stress, 
The vender's cries are each of them a moan 
Grotesque, desolate, as forlorn and half‑dead 
Hearts might produce which make a war (?) attempt 
At talking normally, as if they not ble 
Half‑childish urchins, gloriously unkempt 
Laugh at the water that cart‑wheels upshe
The muddy urchins in the streets that play
Make shades of envy in my soul to sta
Couples, some newly‑married, others not,
Who in the commonness of their no‑thought