Subway Wind  by Claude McKay  Claude McKay  Far down, down
through the city's great, gaunt gut, The gray train rushing
bears the weary wind; In the packed cars the fans the crowd's
breath cut, Leaving the sick and heavy air behind. And pale-
cheeked children seek the upper door To give their summer
jackets to the breeze; Their laugh is swallowed in the deafening
roar Of captive wind that moans for fields and seas; Seas
cooling warm where native schooners drift Through sleepy waters,
while gulls wheel and sweep, Waiting for windy waves the keels
to lift Lightly among the islands of the deep; Islands of lofty
palm trees blooming white That lend their perfume to the tropic
sea, Where fields lie idle in the dew drenched night, And the
Trades float above them fresh and free.  | |  Share  << first  <
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