The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office, <br />And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly <br />Towards the dazzling street. <br />Her withered hand clings tightly to the railing. <br />The long stairs rise and fall beneath her feet. <br /> <br />Here in the brilliant sun we jostle, waiting <br />To tear her secret out . . . We laugh, we hurry, <br />We go our way, revolving, sinister, slow. <br />She blinks in the sun, and then steps faintly downward. <br />We whirl her away, we shout, we spin, we flow. <br /> <br />Where have you been, old lady? We know your secret!
