Living in cities, everyone is strange,

Except when strangers meet to cry, "Well met!"

Thereafter soon enough such friendships change.

They are hard to remember, easy to forget.

If doors were open down the street, if lights

Made every evening friendly, friends would call,

And all our houses all these lonely nights

Be warm with casual hats and coats in the hall,

With laughter, drink, and food, and easy talk.

But living in cities is to live alone

Inside apartment doors with a safety lock,

And ask a random few by telephone

To save your soul next Thursday, eight to ten,

Provided they have no engagements then.