His temple was the sky above him;
His crown the starry one of night;
Mingling with publicans and sinners,
Hungry and weary by the way,
He spoke at first among the lowly
The words whose echo lives to-day.
A SEAT IN THE CITY CARS.
FIVE o'clock!—getting late!—never mind it a bit;
I've a seat in the car, and here I will sit
Till my street is announced. I will, I declare!—
I have paid the half-dime—it is no more than fair.
I've been standing all day in the store and the street;
No rest for my limbs or the soles of my feet:
I am tired to death—would not budge for a king,
For an emperor, duke, or any such thing.
If a woman comes in— Why, they shouldn't try
For a seat in the cars when the evening is nigh.
"Be home before sunset," I tell Rosalie
(She's a wife for a pattern; she gets home at three).
They say, to be sure, "I can just as well stand,"
But they put up a weak little bit of a hand
In pursuit of a strap that they find is too high,
Settle down on their toes, and give up with a sigh.
