Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Dingy StreetMarjorie Allen Seiffert
From “Gallery of Paintings”
I
And the December air
Is harsh and bitter. All the trees are bare,
The leaves are scattered and trodden down
To pulp; and every house is brown.
There is no trace of beauty anywhere.
But toward the muddy street
One by one their shabby windows bloom
Like golden flowers, to shine and greet
The bundled effigies on sodden feet
Trudging toward welcome in the hidden room.
Body and spirit, they are warmed and fed.
There, as a thousand times before,
The ancient feast is spread—
The simple miracles of love and bread.
They stumble into beauty at the door.