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Book XXXIV. Sands At Seventy: Broadway

What hurrying human tides, or day or night!
What passions, winnings, losses, ardors, swim thy waters!
What whirls of evil, bliss and sorrow, stem thee!
What curious questioning glances  glints of love!
Leer, envy, scorn, contempt, hope, aspiration!
Thou portal thou arena thou of the myriad long-drawn lines and groups!
(Could but thy flagstones, curbs, facades, tell their inimitable tales;
Thy windows rich, and huge hotels  thy side-walks wide;)
Thou of the endless sliding, mincing, shuffling feet!
Thou, like the parti-colored world itself  like infinite, teeming,
mocking life!
Thou visor’d, vast, unspeakable show and lesson!
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