| Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917. | | | | Rainy Sunday | | By John Hall Wheelock |
| | | THE SOFT, grey garment of the rushing rain | |
| Veils in the lonely, Sunday streets afar. | |
| The passengers sit dumb within the car— | |
| Slow drops slip wearily down the window-pane. | |
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| A funeral procession takes its way | 5 |
| Across the tracks, the car stands still a space, | |
| All eyes are turned and every anxious face,— | |
| Save one, that laughs oblivious of delay. | |
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| Holding her baby close against her breast, | |
| The heart of love, too glad to comprehend, | 10 |
| And Life at war with Death until the end, | |
| The mother throned serene amid the rest. | | | | |
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