In The Town, a Poem

Published in The San Franciscan, 1884.

I’m sick of the bustle and strife,
And the men and the women I meet—
This moving, breathing chaos of life
That surges along the street.
Silent and jealous and proud—
However much I may seek,
There’s not a person in all the crowd
To whom I may dare to speak.

No hand is extended to greet me,
No welcome wherever I come;
They’re silent and haughty who meet me—
For people and houses are dumb.

O I could shout to the hills,
And they’d echo and answer again,
And the loud huzza of a hundred rills
Would greet me from valley and glen.
The forests so stately and grand
Would play on their harps as of old,
Till an infinite melody rolled
And widened through all the land.
Even now to my listening heart
Their far-off murmurings come;
O when shall I leave the tumultuous mart
—Where people and houses are dumb?