"In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming with rain, I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed, Thinking of all my problems that never are solved. Suddenly out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet Shone from a huddled shop. I saw thru the bleary window A mass of playthings: False-faces hung on strings, Valentines, paper and tinsel, Tops of scarlet and green, Candy, marbles, jacks— A confusion of color Pathetically gaudy and cheap. All of my boyhood Rushed back. Once more these things were treasures Wildly desired. With covetous eyes I looked again at the marbles, The precious agates, the pee-wees, the chinies— Then I passed on.
In the winter dusk, The pavements were gleaming with rain; There in the lighted window I left my boyhood."