Sleepless beneath the smoke-hung purple sky. . . .

Down in the streets the tired city vaguely clatters,
Here alone in my room I stand, and nothing matters,
Only. . . . I love you!



THE BALCONY SCENES

The stage is set, like a garden,
And the lights are flickering and low;
And a Romeo with fat legs,
Is telling a Juliet with dyed hair and tired,
disillusioned eyes,
That love -- real love -- is the only thing in the world.

And up in the balcony of the theatre
Where the seats cost twenty-five cents,
A slim little girl in a shiny serge frock,
And a boy with a wistful mouth
Are holding hands.
And as they listen, breathlessly, to the studied voice
of the actor,
Their fingers are all a-thrill,
With the music of the ages.



A BOWERY PAWN-SHOP