Houses,
Blank like faces
Staring; windows ever gazing.
Secret, sullen, speechless
Buildings, homes of men;
And very near the quick pulsation
Of a city.
Station lights entrancing,
Red and green and vivid yellow,
And we stop, with faint reluctance,
As a horse does;
After journeying
Through the night.

—S.G.M.

July 16th, 1932.