The street musician

 He plays for all the little side-streets, while
 A worn, half-wistful smile
Kindles his face when people passing here
 Stop and draw near.
So slight a note. . . and yet the thundering town
 Has failed to roar it down;
Under the huge despairs, the shattering blows,
 It lifts and grows.
 Incongruous, unbidden and absurd;
 And yet the street is stirred.
As men behold, for all its dark disguise,
 The Dream arise!

-Anon.