This website is using cookies

We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue without changing your settings, we'll assume that you are happy to receive all cookies on this website. 

Lowry, Malcolm: The Drunkards

Portre of Lowry, Malcolm

The Drunkards (English)

The noise of death is in the desolate bar

Where tranquility sits bowed over its prayer

And music shells the dream of the lover

But when no nickel buys this harsh despair

Into this loneliest of homes

And of all dooms the loneliest yet

Where no electric music breaks the beat

Of hearts to be doubly broken but now set

By the surgeon of peace in the splint of woe

Pieces more deeply than trumpets do

The motion of the mind into that web

Where disorders are as simple as the tomb

And the spider of life sits, sleep.

Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotation