James Stephens paints a grim city street as if it were almost alive with menace. The houses are blackened and seem to scowl; the people move like suspicious, slinking figures. Even the light from a drink-shop only throws yellow glare onto cracked pavement, while the gutter runs like a filthy stream. A drunk clown lurches past singing obscenely, and a rain-soaked woman follows with old, tired, bad eyes. There is no freshness or kindness here. The speaker feels trapped in ugliness and watches without romance or hope. The mood is oppressive and weary, and the final lines sharpen that feeling: no light-hearted wind blows sweetness from any rose into this place. The street is closed off from anything clean, gentle, or beautiful.
A Street — Summary
Two narrow files of houses scowl, Blackened with grime, on either side Of the road, and through them prowl Strange men and women, shifty-eyed And slinking, and a drink-shop throws Its flare of yellow light adown The cracked pavement. The gutter flows A turbid, evil stream. A clown, Drink-sodden, lurches by and sings Obscenely. A woman trails behind With old, bad eyes ; her clothing clings Rain-soaked about her. No daring wind, Light-hearted, from a garden blows Its sweetness here from any rose.