Wild winter-rain comes plashing down
Turning the grey street jetty-brown;
Two cyclists skid, pedestrians rush,
Traffic policemen curse the slush.
On lamp-posts now few sparrows talk,
On roof-tops now less pigeons walk;
Only the Liffey sings a song
And gelid hail that hops along.
No shadow neath the Pillar lies,
Wind-drownéd are the newsboys’ cries,
Gaunt and bare all the kerb trees stand,
Each tramway pole’s a glinting wand.
The Wolfhound Book of Irish Poems for Young People, ed. B. Quinn et al., Poolbeg
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