It's the anarchy of poverty
delights me, the old
yellow wooden house indented
among the new brick tenements
Or a cast-iron balcony
with panels showing oak branches
in full leaf. It fits
the dress of the children
reflecting every stage and
custom of necessity -
Chimneys, roofs, fences of
wood and metal in an unfenced
age and enclosing next to
nothing at all: the old man
in a sweater and soft black
hat who sweeps the sidewalk —
his own ten feet of it —
in a wind that fitfully
turning his corner has
overwhelmed the entire city
- "The Poor", William Carlos Williams
