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THE JUNGLE STREAM
Dull fog—grey veil enfolding all,
Dim buildings, lurid sunbeam kissed,
A skyline rising into mist
Where coiling vapors writhe and twist
And dismal dun-toned shadows fall.
Grim tugs that plow the grimy stream
With waves cut fanwise by the keel;
A bridge, etched bold in lines of steel
And smudged with swarming crowds that reel
Like dizzy phantoms through a dream.
Damp breeze that brings a fetid smell,
A roar that waxes loud and lulls.
Far down below the grey-wing gulls
Soar round the gloomy steamer hulls,
All blurred within a hazy hell.
The clanging clamour swells afar;
The strife-worn mobs rush madly by;
The ghostly city towers high,
But, distant in the fading sky,
In holy silence gleams one star.
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