• THE people come,the people go,
    The ticket man stands here,
    And some one steps aside to know,
    How much his extra fare?
    None stay to look at anything,
    But each alone intent,
    Passes with haste or measured swing,
    And thinking of a different thing,
    Walks up the dark ascent.
    O ticket man,the sky is bright
    With golden floods of sun-
    Not yours that wide,blue, radiant sight;
    Here business jostles out the light
    And night and day are one!