Mary Robinson, “A London Summer Morning”

Who has not waked to list the busy sounds 
Of summer’s morning in the sultry smoke 
Of noisy London? On the pavement hot 
The sooty chimney-boy, with dingy face 
And tattered covering, shrilly hawks his trade, 
Rousing the sleepy housemaid. At the door 
The milk-pail rattles, and the tinkling bell 
Proclaims the dustman’s office, while the street 
Is lost in clouds impervious. Now begins 
The din of hackney-coaches, wagons, carts; 
While tin-men’s shops, and noisy trunk-makers, 
Knife-grinders, coopers, squealing cork-cutters, 
Fruit-barrows, and the hunger-giving cries 
Of vegetable-vendors, fill the air. 
Now every shop displays its varied trade, 
And the fresh-sprinkled pavement cools the feet 
Of early walkers. At the private door 
The ruddy housemaid twirls the busy mop, 
Annoying the smart ‘prentice, or neat girl, 
Tripping with band-box lightly. Now the sun 
Darts burning splendour on the glittering pane, 
Save where the canvas awning throws a shade 
On the gay merchandise. Now, spruce and trim, 
In shops where beauty smiles with industry, 
Sits the smart damsel, while the passenger 
Peeps through the window, watching every charm. 
Now pastry dainties catch the eyes minute 
Of hummy insects, while the slimy snare 
Waits to enthral them. Now the lamp-lighter 
Mounts the slight ladder, nimbly venturous, 
To trim the half-filled lamps, while at his feet 
The pot-boy yells discordant. All along 
The sultry pavement, the old-clothes man cries 
In tone monotonous, and sidelong views 
The area for his traffic. Now the bag 
Is slyly opened, and the half-worn suit 
(Sometimes the pilfered treasure of the base 
Domestic spoiler), for one half its worth, 
Sinks in the green abyss. The porter now 
Bears his huge load along the burning way, 
And the poor poet wakes from busy dreams, 
To paint the summer morning.

Mary Robinson, 1758-1800 – “A London Summer Morning” from Selected Poems