A shabby old woman

Dumb in grief,

I s going to her sister's funeral.

She stands

And a woman

On the way home from the matinee

Does not offer her her seat

Neither do the men

In seats behind,

Seeking forgetfulness

In the evening paper.

A man of the world

Aged seventeen

Eyes the crowd haughtily.

Chattering young stenographers " '

'N he said-" 'n you should Iv seen 'm

a father of two sons on

One in Harvard

The other in Flanders,

Grips a strap and watches the street

Those who have no papers

Read the advertisements

And wait a chance

To sit next the window

The conductor -

Move right up forward!"

Up forwud pleese"

And counts the minutes

Till the run is over