A CITY STREET by MARY HOWITT

I love the fields, the woods, the streams,
The wild flowers fresh and sweet,
And yet I love, no less than these,
The crowded city street:
For haunts of men, where'er they be,
A wake my deepest sympathy.

I see within the city street
Life's most extreme estates,
The gorgeous domes of palaces;
The prison's doleful gates;
The hearths by household virtues blest,
The dens that are the serpent's nest.

I see the rich man, proudly fed,
And richly clothed, pass by;
I see the shivering homeless wretch,
With hunger in his eye:
For life's severest contrasts meet
For ever in the city street.

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