II

From a tower like a mountain promontory

The cesspool of a railroad lies to view

Fouling the marble of the city's glory:

A crapulous sluice of garbage and of cars

Where engines rush and whistle, smudge the blue

With filth like the trail of slugs.

It is a trench of steel which bars

Free access to the common shore, and hugs

In a coil of lazar arms the boulevard.