Текст
Number 11 Broadway by Walt Whitman what harrying human tides, or day or night, what passions, winnings, losses, ardours swim thy waters?0:03
What whirls of evil, bliss and sorrow stem thee?0:23
What curious questioning glances glints of love, leer, envy, scorn, contempt, hope, aspiration, Thou portal, thou arena, thou of the myriad long drawn lines and groups, could but thy flagstones, curbs, facades, tell their inimitable tales.0:28
Thy windows reach and huge hotels, thy sidewalks wide.0:51
Thou of the endless, sliding, mincing, shuffling feet, Thou like the parti coloured world itself, like infinite, teeming, mocking life, Thou visored, vast, unspeakable show and lesson.0:56
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