Morning at the Window
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.
With his detached pedestrian voice Eliot has gone about collecting sordid, soiled images brown waves of fog and muddy skirts on an urban morning. He separates with his gate the classes with his usual sophisticated weariness I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids/ Sprouting despondently at area gates in the midst of a bit of moral dirt swirling among the clashes of modern noise. This is the disorder of different social classes coming together; the city being the place where members of various social strata come together most visibly. It is a modern kind of music, a type of revolutionary music created from the sounds, sights,and smells of their respective urban realities. Eliot composed Morning at the Window in early September 1914 he was living in England and working for The Egoist as World War I was breaking out. Using an unrhymed form he creates an interesting and entertaining group of images.
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