Page:Slabs of the sunburnt West.djvu/23

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The Windy City
9
Forgive us if the lumber porches and doorstepsSnarl at each other—And the brick chimneys cough in a close-up ofEach other's faces—And the ramshackle stairways watch each otherAs thieves watch—And dooryard lilacs near a malleable iron worksLong ago languishedIn a short whispering purple.
And if the alley ash cansTell the garbage wagon driversThe children play the alley is HeavenAnd the streets of Heaven shineWith a grand dazzle of stones of goldAnd there are no policemen in Heaven—Let the rag-tags have it their way.
And if the geraniumsIn the tin cans of the window sillsAsk questions not worth answering—And if a boy and a girl hunt the sunWith a sieve for sifting smoke—Let it pass—let the answer be—"Dust and a bitter wind shall come."
Forgive us if the jazz timebeatsOf these clumsy mass shadowsMoan in saxophone undertones,
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