by John Crowe Ransom
The shine of many city streets
Confuses any countryman;
It flickers here and flashes there,
It goes as soon as it began,
It beckons many ways at once
For him to follow if he can.
Under the lamp a woman stands,
The lamps are shining equal well,
But in her eyes are other lights,
And lights plus other lights will tell:
He loves the brightness of that street
Which is the shining street to hell.
There’s light enough, and strong enough,
To lighten every pleasant park;
I’m sorry lights are held so cheap,
I’d rather there were not a spark
Than choose those shining ways for joy
And have them lead me into dark.
Last updated November 04, 2022