I.

I dwell amid the city ever. The great humanity which beats Its life along the stony streets, Like a strong and unsunned river In a self-made course, I sit and hearken while it rolls. Very sad and very hoarse Certes is the flow of souls; Infinitest tendencies By the finite prest and pent, In the finite, turbulent: How we tremble in surprise When sometimes, with an awful sound, God's great plummet strikes the ground!