In the Crowd

HERE in the crowded city’s busy street,

H

Swayed by the eager, jostling, hasting throng,

Where Traffic’s voice grows harsher and more strong,

I see within the stream of hurrying feet

A company of trees in their retreat,

Dew-bathed, dream-wrapped, and with a thrush’s song

Emparadising all the place, along

Whose paths I hear the pulse of Beauty beat.

’Twas yesterday I walked beneath the trees,

To-day I tread the city’s stony ways;

And still the spell that o’er my spirit came

Turns harshest sounds to shy bird ecstasies,

Pours scent of pine through murky chimney haze,

And gives each careworn face a woodland frame.

{42}

{42}

By Fields of Grass

BY fields of grass and woodland silences

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