Halsted Street Car

Come you, cartoonists,

Hang on a strap with me here

At seven o'clock in the morning

On a Halsted street car.

Take your pencils

And draw these faces.

Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,

That pig-sticker in one corner—his mouth—

That overall factory girl—her loose cheeks.

Find for your pencils

A way to mark your memory

Of tired empty faces.

After their night's sleep,

In the moist dawn

And cool daybreak,

Faces

Tired of wishes,

Empty of dreams.