Classic Poem

I have seen children playing in the corridors of great hotels—
Pathetic, lonely little creatures,
Surrounded by rich velvet curtains and disinterested nurses,
Trying to play hide-and-seek quietly in the hushed hallways,
Behind shining pillars, as country children play behind trees;
Or teasing the bell-boys, for lack of other companionship,
As the bell-boys hurry about their duties.

These are the children that seldom see their parents;
They are, sadly enough, the product of accident,
And their parents are indifferent to them.
They are tragic little beings;
I am sorry for them with as much pity
As one can retain who lives forever in a crowded metropolis.
In the afternoons I have seen their nurses take them
Out of the corridors of the big hotels
Into the noisy stone corridors of the streets,
And parade them solemnly up and down, up and down,
As if they were wooden images instead of human beings.
And always the wise little children's eyes follow other little children
Who are in a like predicament,
As if to say, if they could, “We are all one Masonic breed,
And we understand one another.”

They are led to the broader corridor of the Avenue,
And toward the Park, with its pitiful spaces of green,
Its gravel walks, and its inhospitable signs
That warn them from the grass. They are always surrounded by walls;
There is never any real freedom, even in the Park,
And the grey, great buildings, the immaculate hotels,
Are visible in the near distance, and seem to say,
“You cannot escape us! Our windows are eyes that watch you,
And we shall call you back soon.”
These children have never learned to play;
They have never learned the wonder of real companionship
With some one who loves them. I pity them more than I pity
The children of poorer people, for the children of poorer people are loved,
And these are cast out because they are in the way,
And given into the keeping of paid servants
Who slight them or secretly frighten them.
They live forever in a state of semi-neglect,
And they will grow up—God pity them!—
Selfish, inconsequential men and women;
For their characters are formed in corridors,
And corridors are narrow, dim places.