THEY are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.

The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.

Analysis, meaning and summary of T.S. Eliot's poem Morning at the Window


  1. john says:

    what is this poem about???

  2. BIrdman says:

    This poem is a masterpiece. I cannot however get the meaning somebody really needs to do a critism or analysis of this poem

  3. Chae' says:

    This is one of my favorite works of his…short and sweet yet it paints such a picture in the mind. Beautiful.

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