London's Summer Morning
Mary Robinson
1757 to 1800
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
Darts burning splendor on the glittering pane,
Is slyly opened, and the half-worn suit
Save where the canvas awning throws a shade
Domestic spoiler), for one half its worth,
To trim the half-filled lamps, while at his feet
On the gay merchandise. Now, spruce and trim,
Sits the smart damsel; while the passenger
And the fresh-sprinkled pavement cools the feet
(Sometimes the pilfered treasure of the base
Who has not waked to list the busy sounds
Is lost in clouds impervious. Now begins
Waits to enthrall them. Now the lamp-lighter
The ruddy housemaid twirls the busy mop,
Annoying the smart 'prentice, or neat girl,
In shops (where beauty smiles with industry)
Of vegetable-vendors, fill the air.
And the poor poet wakes from busy dreams,
The area for his traffic: now the bag
Bears his huge load along the burning way;
Knife-grinders, coopers, squeaking cork-cutters,
While tinmen's shops, and noisy trunk-makers,
Of humming insects, while the limy snare
Rousing the sleepy housemaid. At the door
Fruit-barrows, and the hunger-giving cries
Sinks in the green abyss. The porter now
The sooty chimney-boy, with dingy face
The din of hackney-coaches, waggons, carts;
Of summer's morning, in the sultry smoke
The sultry pavement, the old-clothes-man cries
Mounts the tall ladder, nimbly venturous,
Of noisy London? On the pavement hot
And tattered covering, shrilly bawls his trade,
Proclaims the dustman's office; while the street
In tone monotonous, while sidelong views
The pot-boy yells discordant! All along
Now every shop displays its varied trade,
The milk-pail rattles, and the tinkling bell
Peeps through the window, watching every charm.
Now pastry dainties catch the eye minute
To paint the summer morning.
Tripping with band-box lightly. Now the sun
Of early walkers. At the private door