Page:Verse and Reverse (1921).pdf/48

So still the tall gray buildings stand,
Like cloistered nuns in an alien land!
Chill falls the rain in dull gray sheets,
That drop like tears on the silent streets.
And the buildings gray, that have held all day
The motley throng who must make their way,
Patient they rest in the shrouding rain,
Till morning comes with its cares again.

Little care they for the lives they hold,
The restless hearts that struggle for gold;
But pawns they are in the mixed-up game
That mortals play in their race for fame!
Yet, Romance buds in their tall gray walls,
And sometimes Love and Adventure calls
With voice so sweet that the lilting theme
Wakes the nuns from their cloistered dream.

'Tis then, I think, that their windows shine,
With glowing flame that is most divine,
And their smoke-plumes rise to the skies above
Like incense of old, to the God of Love!
But to-night the rain comes pouring down
Till it seems that the tall gray buildings frown,
And sigh, as they huddle, deserted and lone,
For the love of the day, that is sheltered at home.