And dust, and heat, and glare!
She sings to-night who puts to shame
Her fabled sisters’ syren-fame;
And, swarming through one mighty street,
From all opposing points they meet;
And hurrying, whirling, madd’ning on,
The crashing wheels and battling crowd
Are coming still, and still are gone—
The Thunder and the Cloud.
But the gush of faint odours