a quirky look at London Life

London Poem: Wilfred Owen At Shadwell Stair





















Shadwell Stair


I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.

Along the wharves by the water-house,

And through the cavernous slaughter-house,

I am the shadow that walks there..

Yet I have flesh both firm and cool,

And eyes tumultuous as the gems

Of moons and lamps in the full Thames

When dusk sails wavering down the pool..

Shuddering the purple street-arc burns

Where I watch always; from the banks

Dolorously the shipping clanks

And after me a strange tide turns..

I walk till the stars of London wane

And dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair.

But when the crowing syrens blare

I with another ghost am lain. 


Wilfred Owen

(1893 – 1918)


Wîth thanks to Spitalfields Life, for leading us to this poem.

See on Scoop.itLondon Life


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