The Street

I love the flags that pave the walk. I love the mud between, The funny figures drawn in chalk.

I love to hear the sound Of drays upon their round,Of horses and their clock-like walk. I love to watch the corner-people gawk And hear what underlies their idle talk.

I love to hear the music of the rain. I love to hear the sound Of yellow waters flushing in the main. I love the breaks betweenWhen little boys begin To sail their paper galleons in the drain. Grey clouds sail west and silver-tips remain. The street, thank God, is bright and clean again.