BORNE in the car along a crowded way, Sun-soaked, I saw the world like shadows glide, Or phantom boats, upon a running tide, Driven through flying fog at break of day. “The chain gang? Yes,” I heard a woman say, “Here in this very street.” I glanced aside And saw the fetters that she flashed in pride, And turned again to watch the world’s array.
Clearly I saw men scurrying on the hour, |