When all about the mighty town the poet wanders much
And hears the subway’s rumbling sound in walls that feel his touch;
When all the busy thousands there go past him in a rush,
He sees one face, or maybe two, that urge him whisper, “Hush”.
This one, this two, this sometimes three, walk joyously erect;
Their steps are sharp, their foreheads shine, their purposes select.
So light they seem, as from a dream, or toward it, they do go,
The poet thinks that he has seen the best of life’s great show.
Oh, who they are and what they do he’ll never know for sure,
But long as there are some like these the city will endure;
Endure, and thrive, and keep alive each rumbling wall and street,
And give to profit greater fame of hero man complete.
When he, or she, do pass you by with stars in place of eyes,
Let “Hush” in you their flight pursue, and set your soul on “Rise”.

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