William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.
Brick-Dust
I
A drunken brick carouse—
This thing my spirit grew in
That once was called a house.
Through baking summer days,
While street-pianos nibbled
At the patient Marseillaise.
In a web of dinner-smells,
And people slowly rotted
In little gossip-hells.
And yet I could have cried
For a little oil I burned there,
A little dream that died.