Small towns
Crawling out of their green shirts ...
Tubercular towns
Coughing a little at dawn ...
And the church ...
There is always a church
With its natty spire
And the vestibule--
That's where they whisper:
Tzz-tzz ... tzz-tzz ... tzz-tzz ...
How many codes for a wireless whisper--
And corn flatter than it should be
And those chits of leaves
Gadding with every wind?
Small towns
From Connecticut to Maine:
Tzz-tzz ... tzz-tzz ... tzz-tzz ...
