The Boston Evening Transcript – By T.S. Eliot

The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript


Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.



When evening quickens faintly in the street,


Wakening the appetites of life in some


And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,


I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning


Wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to Rochefoucauld,


If the street were time and he at the end of the street,


And I say, “Cousin Harriet, here is the Boston Evening Transcript.”