I love the fields, the woods, the streams, The wild flowers fresh and sweet, And yet I love, no less than these, The crowded city street: For haunts of men, where'er they be, A wake my deepest sympathy. I see within the city street Life's most extreme estates, The gorgeous domes of palaces; The prison's doleful gates; The hearths by household virtues blest, The dens that are the serpent's nest. I see the rich man, proudly fed, And richly clothed, pass by; I see the shivering homeless wretch, With hunger in his eye: For life's severest contrasts meet For ever in the city street. |