Classic Poem

The raucous voice of a hawker
Hurt every listening ear.
A hurdy-gurdy was playing
Tunes of another year.
The sun shone dusty and shyly,
Drab was the street and drear.

It is Springtime! Spring in the city!
Shouted a voice of glee,
But never a glimpse of the springtime
Greeted the eyes of me
In the crowded slums of the city
Hard by the weary sea.

I thought, O Fatuous! Foolish!
Crying of Spring and Youth,
'Mid the towering tenements standing
Grimy, unkempt, uncouth;
And I envied the heart of the dreamer
Blind to the hurt of Truth.

And then there fluttered about us,
Come from I know not where,
A glimpse, and away — a robin —
Brazen and debonair ...
The sordid street of the city
Smiled, and with Spring was fair.