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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348472" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>King Street</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348472" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A morn, a sallow lamp-lit morn, <br> A dawn that never breaks to day! <br> Old, old the faces, and forlorn; <br> The hearts look out, so seared, so grey! <br> It is as if some upturned stone <br> Had flung to light a vermin rout— <br> For things misfeatured, souls unknown, <br> Stagger in blind amaze about. <br> <br> Along their gleaming lines of light <br> The charging trams go, head to ground; <br> Out from the drifting pathways, white <br> The faces flash—like faces drowned! <br> And there with painted features drear, <br> And eyes whose pathos still is sweet, <br> The hunted hunters prowl and peer— <br> Their lair the long, slow-surging street.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Arthur+Henry+Adams">Arthur Henry Adams</a></strong></div>

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