When I see the ignoble procession
streaming forth from little doorways
citywards, in little rivers that swell to a great stream,
of men in bowler hats, hurrying
and a mingling of wallet-carrying women
hurrying, hurrying, legs going quick, quick, quick
in ignoble haste, for fear of being late —
I am filled with humiliation.
Their haste
is so
humiliating.