Voices on the Drive

All day and all day has the serried mass driven.
And into the twilight unwaveringly
Sound rises and calls from its snake-winding body,
Like the hum of a sea.

Soft, happy elderlies happily lauding
The mist and the breeze—in a flash they are by,
Their eyes looking far and enwrapt, dreaming into
The lazuline sky.

A flash—it is beautiful young girls singing,
Bringing the bloom of life from somewhere,
Their cadence whirled away forever,
To haunt the air.

A flash—it is powerful young men passing,
Gay young men with laughter and chatter.
What are they saying? Where are they going?
What does it matter?

A crash, an outcry, and hurrying figures,
A horror of wheels in a tangle upthrust.
A woman is carried along the curb-way.
There is blood in the dust.

All day and all day has the serried mass driven.
And into the twilight unwaveringly
Sound rises and calls from its snake-winding body,
Like the hum of a sea.
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