I STANDING IN THE STREET

I standing in the street, I standing,

Gaze on the unwashed windows, dingy walls,

When lo! a clarion ...

Lo! thro' the slum a spring-time trumpet calls.

Lo! on the roofs a rose-leaf magic falls.

Thro' all the windows dance and jewels shine.

Thro' all the rooms go lissome girls with scent.

The window-frames are tendrilled with the vine.

(Ah, God! I weep in my content.)

I standing in the street, I standing,

Gaze on my vision splendid and most dear,

When lo! a chimney ...

Lo! on my dreams the soot drifts dry and sere.

Lo! all my flowers wilt in a reek of beer.

On the drab flags squat children dusty-eyed,

Cursed at by blousy women with dank hair.

Just down the street there sprawls a suicide.

(Ah, God! I laugh in my despair.)