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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Dray
Work rating: Low

Huge through the darkened street
 The Dray comes, rolling an uneven thunder
 Of wheels and trampling feet;
 The shaken windows stare in sleepy wonder.

 Now through an open space,
 Where loitering groups about the tavern`s fume
 Show many a sullen face
 And brawling figure in the lighted gloom,

 It moves, a shadowy force
 Through misery triumphant: flushed, on high
 Guiding his easy course,
 A giant sits, with indolent soft eye.

 He turns not, that dim crowd
 Of listless forms beneath him to behold;
 Shawled women with head bowed
 Flitting in hasty stealth, and children old:

 Calm as some conqueror
 Rode through old Rome, nor heeded at his heel,
 `Mid the proud spoils of war,
 What woeful captives thronged his chariot wheel.
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