![Thomas Stearns Eliot-The Boston Evening Transcript](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhICuJObpjwRZXWKuHI_1bik7Lqpa4TX5y0NqXboblKH5eki3Yc6vODNsiIvUNknzvGPkpu-PX1tmodGd0RLuNV7dQk8WXNBcDeCDqmlVbVH5AAXW5JwE0ZDqWsUhofgfXDW3QaQJtjs/d-rw/Thomas-Stearns-Eliot.jpg)
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."