Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.

City Roofs

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.

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, prisoned 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!