Morning at the Window

by T.S. Eliot

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens

,

And along the trampled edges of the street And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the
damp souls of housemaids
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates Sprouting despondently at area gates

.

The brown waves of fog toss up to me The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street

,

Twisted faces from the bottom of the street
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts And tear from a
passer-by with
muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs

.

And vanishes along the level of the roofs