THE CITY

FOG

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

-Carl Sandburg

BROOKLYN BRIDGE AT DAWN

Out of the cleansing night of stars and tides,
Building itself anew in the slow dawn,
The long sea-city rises: night is gone,
Day is not yet; still merciful, she hides

Her summoning brow, and still the night-car glides
Empty of faces; the night-watchmen yawn
One to the other, and shiver and pass on,
Nor yet a soul over the great bridge rides.

Frail as a gossamer, a thing of air,
A bow of shadow o'er the river flung,

Its sleepy masts and lonely lapping flood;

Who, seeing thus the bridge a-slumber there,

Would dream such softness, like a picture hung, Is wrought of human thunder, iron and blood?

—Richard Le Gallienne

EEN NAPOLI

Here een Noo Yorka, where am I
Seence I am landa las' July,
All gray an' ogly ees da sky,
An' cold as eet can be.

But steel so long I maka mon',
So long ees worka to be done,
I can forgat how shines da sun
Een Napoli.

But oh, w'en pass da boy dat sal
Da violets, an' I can smal
How sweet dey are, I can not tal
How seeck my heart ees be.
I no can work, how mooch I try,
But only seet an' wondra why
I could not justa leeve an' die
Een Napoli.

-T. A. Daly

CITY ROOFS *

(From the Metropolitan Tower.)

Roof-tops, roof-tops, what do you cover?

Sad folk, bad folk, and many a glowing lover;
Wise people, simple people, children of despair-
Roof-tops, roof-tops, hiding pain and care.

* From Today and Tomorrow, by Charles Hanson Towne, copyright 1916, George H. Doran Company, publishers.

Roof-tops, roof-tops, O what sin you're knowing,

While above you in the sky the white clouds are blowing;
While beneath you, agony and dolor and grim strife
Fight the olden battle, the olden war of Life.

Roof-tops, roof-tops, cover up their shame

Wretched souls, prison souls too piteous to name;
Man himself hath built you all to hide away the stars-
Roof-tops, roof-tops, you hide ten million scars.

Roof-tops, roof-tops, well I know you cover

Many solemn tragedies, and many a lonely lover;

But ah! you hide the good that lives in the throbbing city

Patient wives, and tenderness, forgiveness, faith, and pity.

Roof-tops, roof-tops, this is what I wonder:

You are thick as poisonous plants, thick the people under;
Yet roofless, and homeless, and shelterless they roam,
The driftwood of the town who have no roof-top, and no
home!

-Charles Hanson Towne

BROADWAY *

How like the stars are these white, nameless faces!
These far innumerable burning coals!

This pale procession out of stellar spaces,

This Milky Way of souls!

* From Poems and Ballads, by Hermann Hagedorn. Used by special permission of The Macmillan Company, publishers.