E. M. Schorb
Vanish these walls, vanish this wealth, with visionary eyes that see
back to hot July 1863. Vanish where wealth shines shopping on Fifth
Avenue, five minutes from the lion-braced library, where I turn down
my book. Vanish these great, gray walls, to see when this mirage
was another, of a white-winged building housing motherless humanity.
Try to see out of the eyes of two hundred frightened black orphans
and their saviors, or, better, the eyes of one little girl under her bed,