Morning at the Window by T.S. Eliot

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Morning at the Window
T.S. Eliot 1888-1965

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,	
And along the trampled edges of the street	
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids	
 
The brown waves of fog toss up to me	        
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,	
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts	
An aimless smile that hovers in the air	
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.

From Prufrock, and other observations (The Egoist, Ltd, 1917)