| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | La Salle Street—Evening | | By John Gould Fletcher |
| | From “Chicago Notes”
THE FAÇADES glower bleakly, | |
| Each one a successive fiat. | |
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| They oppose with unwearied sombreness | |
| The greenish light of the sky. | |
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| They extend themselves frontally: | 5 |
| Immense stubborn cliffs of fatality, | |
| Motionless summits of denial, | |
| Striving with silent ambition | |
| To crush the last glimmer out. | |
| People go hastily beneath them with embittered glances. | 10 |
| They do not heed the throng, | |
| They do not hesitate at all: | |
| Their treasuries are locked and barred behind triple-brazed armor of steel. | |
| They are an army in massive alignment: | |
| We are the trampled grass quivering beneath their feet. | 15 | | | |
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