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The Subway

Rating: 4.0

Tired clerks, pale girls, street cleaners, business men,
Boys, priests and harlots, drunkards, students, thieves,
Each one the pleasant outer sunshine leaves;
They mingle in this stifling, loud-wheeled pen.
The gate clangs to- we stir- we sway- and then
We thunder through the dark. The long train weaves
Its gloomy way. At last above the eaves
We see awhile God's day, then night again.

Hurled through the dark- day at Manhattan Street,

The rest all night. That is my life, it seems.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Glen Kappy 03 August 2020

wow! the subway, i think, is a great metaphor for life. and what a great description of a new york subway ride—which i'm quite familiar with—all well-crafted in this poem. and how i share the idea that " the darkness makes the light more sweet" (!) —to remember God, who is light and love, is to remember comfort and home. -glen

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