In a Tram

ONE of the twain was long and dusty grey,
    And like a spark that in the ashes lies,
    Satiric laughter glinted in his eyes
And made his nose auroral with its ray:
The other like a huge black bird of prey,
    His hat enorm, his pipe of awful size,
    His coat hung empty-sleeved in careless wise,
Loomed a fat angel from the pit astray.

A voice was booming ever: laugh and jeer
    Mingled with noble praise of battling right,
And verse and girls were mixed with radiant beer
    And all the city tram was given sight
Of the invisible dark and bidden hear
    Unsplashing silence of the pouring light.

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