Читать книгу Hazards - Wilfrid Wilson Gibson - Страница 24

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A scintillating snake of jewelled light

Kindles the darkness as from forge and mill,

Free-wheeling gaily down the Letchworth hill,

The workers hurry home through early night.

Beneath the frosty stars, an endless stream,

One after one the little lamps shoot down

The long and gradual slope to Hitchin town;

And happy voices call and faces gleam

Suddenly from the shadows, as they pass—

Lasses and lads released from bench and loom,

From clanging foundry and from rattling room

Where all day long beneath the roof of glass

On whirring wheels the live belts strain and scream—

Released at last, for a few hours to be

Masters of their own time, a brief while free

To call the tune and dance, or drowse and dream.