ON THE THOROUGHFARE
To-day I go to buy some dates
From Glyco’s cart.
“Ten cents,” my smiling fruitman states,
And then we part—
I to the mart,
He for the next fig-buyer waits!
Back to my world I go, its keen
Quick energy
And competitions sharp and mean,
Its flippancy,
And sophistry,
And tampering with things unclean;
But Glyco waits; he has ten cents;
And he has hope,
And back of him, antecedents
Give him such scope!
With his traditions’ affluence
I cannot cope!