The Crowd

Whence comes the crowd, and where does it go?

Backward and forward and endless flow;

Constantly moving, always the same,

Like silent figures in a mystical game.

Whose are the faces and what is the goal?

Who is straight forward, who playing a role?

What is it thinking, what will it do.

Has it a definite end in view?

Crowd of mystery, silent and long,

Hearts tipped with sorrow, and lips tipped with song;

Endless procession of sunshine and woe –

Whence does it come, and where does it go?

Feb. 12, ‘10