Explore "The Scarlet Gown: THE BANISHED BEJANT FROM THE UNPUBLISHED REMAINS OF EDGAR ALLAN POE" by Robert Fuller Murray on Textopian.
Here, where the thoroughfares meet at an angle / Of ninety degrees (this angle is right), / You may hear the loafers that jest and wrangle / Through the sun-lit day and the lamp-lit night; / Though day be dreary and night be wet, / You will find a ceaseless concourse met; / Their laughter resounds and their Fife tongues jangle, / And now and again their Fife fists fight.
Often here the voice of the crier / Heralds a sale in the City Hall, / And slowly but surely drawing nigher / Is heard the baker's bugle call. / The baker halts where the two ways meet, / And the blast, though loud, is far from sweet / That with breath of bellows and heart of fire / He blows, till the echoes leap from the wall.