As busses will do.
Amid the cold coigns of the causeway.
I secretly, silently sat,
Aloof, out of laughter’s and law’s way,
Hard-holding my hat.
In crowds that seemed never to cease, men
Heaved, hurtled, home-hurried and howled,
While pestilent prigs of policemen,
Persistently prowled.
From pockets that penniless sounded