II
Does the slant touch of early light awake
The sirens on the Clyde, and fling the door
Wide on the city’s rousing all-day roar?
Are the streets well a-clatter? Do they break
From tram and train, that travelling host, and take
The town by storm? Does gathering traffic pour
Over the tide-line of night’s silent shore,
Into the spaces, till the cobbles quake?
While down the river, crowded to the brink
With huddled shipyards, many a loaded quay,
Ten hundred thousand volleying hammers clink;
And the slow homing liner booms to see
The ever-coiling waters still a-wink
With mirrored shipping freighted for the sea.
Hesepe, 19th May