| |
| FIRST, at the dawn of lingering day, | |
| It rises of an ashy gray; | |
| Then deepening with a sordid stain | |
| Of yellow, like a lion’s mane. | |
| Vapor importunate and dense | 5 |
| It wars at once with every sense. | |
| The ears escape not. All around | |
| Returns a dull, unwonted sound. | |
| Loath to stand still, afraid to stir, | |
| The chilled and puzzled passenger, | 10 |
| Oft blundering from the pavement, fails | |
| To feel his way along the rails; | |
| Or at the crossings, in the roll | |
| Of every carriage dreads the pole. | |
| Scarce an eclipse with pall so dun | 15 |
| Blots from the face of heaven the sun. | |
| But soon a thicker, darker cloak | |
| Wraps all the town; behold, the smoke, | |
| Which steam-compelling trade disgorges | |
| From all her furnaces and forges, | 20 |
| In pitchy clouds, too dense to rise, | |
| Descends rejected from the skies; | |
| Till struggling day, extinguished quite, | |
| At noon gives place to candle-light. * * * * * | |
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