The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript <br />Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn. <br /> <br />When evening quickens faintly in the street, <br />Wakening the appetites of life in some <br />And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript, <br />I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning <br />Wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to Rochefoucauld, <br />If the street were time and he at the end of the street, <br />And I say, 'Cousin Harriet, here is the Boston Evening Transcript.'<br /><br />Thomas Stearns Eliot<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-boston-evening-transcript/
