Autumn in town

1965
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/ poem

The buildings are of sombre stone Or are they really light deep down Covered with dust of many years? Dust, ever present in the town, Fills the uneven pavement cracks Is in the very air, impure, Mingling with smoke from factory stacks. How can people in towns endure This endless dirt? The c...

The buildings are of sombre stone
Or are they really light deep down
Covered with dust of many years?
Dust, ever present in the town,
Fills the uneven pavement cracks
Is in the very air, impure,
Mingling with smoke from factory stacks.
How can people in towns endure
This endless dirt?
The city wind, restrained by man-made walls
Will part leaves from lonely sycamore trees,
Drive them into the street sweeper's cart.




 
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