Classic Poem

Among drab, drooping houses,
Dim, ugly shops,
And black, grim factories,
Where monstrous wheels
Screech ceaselessly
All day,
The white-stoned library
Shines,
An oasis of peace.
And at the pleasant desk,
The lady of the library
Stands,
Smiling to little ragged children
Waiting in impatient line,
And leading them,
From the gray streets' sordid paths,
Through the spacious wonderland
Of books,
To golden gardens
Of enchantment!