Rainbow over grey

Sometimes on sundays like today I feel my handful of spleen. I let it be, because it is a sweet feeling; and lying over the grass on a sunny day makes it sweeter. Like a tiny rainbow light over a blurry grey background.

Sunday: this satisfied procession
Of definite Sunday faces;
Bonnets, silk hats, and conscious graces
In repetition that displaces
Your mental self-possession
By this unwarranted digression.

Evening, lights, and tea!
Children and cats in the alley;
Dejection unable to rally
Against this dull conspiracy.

And Life, a little bald and gray,
Languid, fastidious, and bland,
Waits, hat and gloves in hand,
Punctilious of tie and suit
(Somewhat impatient of delay)
On the doorstep of the Absolute.

T.S. Eliot, "Spleen".