John Hall Wheelock

IN the Spring on the pavements of the city

The little children play marbles and laugh and shout,

Their laughter is drowned by the city all about;

But they laugh back regardless of the city

And clap their hands and shout.

In the sunlight fading from the alleys,

The braided hair, and the short hair are bowed

Over a few soiled marbles; a watching crowd

Circles them in the noisy, dusty alleys,

Where the close heads are bowed.

From the river in the distance flowing

The whistles murmur,—the tired souls of men

Call to each other over the waters again,

Over the river in the sunlight flowing

Answer the souls of men.

When lamps in the street-ways glimmer,

Along the rooves the sky still burns with day,—

A little group watches them where they play.

And in the distance the long waters glimmer

With the receding day.