Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917.
Roses in the SubwayDana Burnet
A
Came stumbling down the crowded car,
Clutching her burden to her breast
As though she held a star.
And struggling from her pinched white hands,
Roses … like captured hostages
From far and fairy lands!
Was like a hush … The flower scent
Breathed faintly on the stale, whirled air
Like some dim sacrament—
And morning on it like a crown—
And o’er a bed of crimson bloom
My mother … stooping down.