(For S.M.L.) <br /> <br />I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea, <br />But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be <br />When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow, <br />And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go. <br /> <br />Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing, <br />And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the Spring; <br />I like to think of it white with frost or dusty in the heat, <br />Because I think it is humaner than any other street. <br /> <br />A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels, <br />And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels: <br />It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends, <br />But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends. <br /> <br />There were only about a hundred teams on Main Street in a day, <br />And twenty or thirty people, I guess, and some children out to play. <br />And there wasn't a wagon or buggy, or a man or a girl or a boy <br />That Main Street didn't remember, and somehow seem to enjoy. <br /> <br />The truck and the motor and trolley car and the elevated train <br />They make the weary city street reverberate with pain: <br />But there is yet an echo left deep down within my heart <br />Of the music the Main Street cobblestones made beneath a butcher's cart. <br /> <br />God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky, <br />That's the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die. <br />Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown, <br />But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown.<br /><br />Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/main-street/
