Far down, down through the city’s great, gaunt gut,
In the packed cars the fans the crowd’s breath cut,Leaving the sick and heavy air behind.And pale-cheeked children seek the upper doorTo give their summer jackets to the breeze;Their laugh is swallowed in the deafening roarOf captive wind that moans for fields and seas;Seas cooling warm where native schooners driftThrough sleepy waters, while gulls wheel…