STREET SCENE, SYDNEY.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 134, 8 June 1929, Page 11 (Supplement)

STREET SCENE, SYDNEY.

No flash of colour, burst of scent, But the mind's alow impoverishment.

Line of level road and street, Beat of motors, throb of feet, Winking stream of bobbing heads Down the pavement. Round me spreads All the clamour, hurry, grime, Of the city's luncheon time, Plaint of sirens, bleat of bells, And most sudden, startling smells As a frequent girl goes by Drenched in femininity. We walk silent. Roar and screech Shatter our attempted speech, And the sharp and volleyed dust Stings our skin. The purring lust Of swirling traffic grips us then; We are prisoners of men. Sprawled, embracing little wheels, Drumming -with impatient heels, ,&. Ramming clutches -with their feet, ■; Miserably intent to beat Some borne body close at hand, Sounding horns in quick command, ("Roads are made for wheels," they shout, "Stand aside, two-legged lout!") In this avenue of stone Tree and flower are never sown, And the sole high-coloured sight Comes where, garlanded with light, Windows glint and fabric gleams (Paxton's soft- drinks and ice creams) Two o'clock. The quarters fall Lightly over yard and wall. Now a sudden dart begins, Each man rushing, for his sins, Bach man anxious, fixed of face, Biting off a final phrase, Bach man speeding, at this knell, To his individual hell. —QUENTIN POPE. Wellington.