Ghosts In The City
OR a mere second we noticed it. Nobody spoke. There was not a bus, nor a tram, Nor the clatter of metal on rail, Nor the sound of the wind as it broke On the tall stone towers of the street. But only the slant of the rain And the whispering sound of the feet. Everything else it would seem For a single sharp instant was still And suddenly nothing was here That was known; but somewhere Hidden and waylaid by Time, All this had happened before. Somewhere there had been the rain And the whispering sound of the feet. While a curtain that hung from a wall Was a weed on a swollen dark tree. Under our feet had been stone | And the soft milling ooze of the mud. The rocks that we passed had been brown. And instead of a tram Was some slow-moving beast of the soil But no town. Only the rain and the sound of the feet. And no more Were the heels on the pavement, The glass in the door, The van, the machine, Or the noise and the boom Of the presses that bore The cry of the people. But only the sound of the rain And the whispering feet That went on through the gloom Of some sort of primeval forest To greet Some sort of primeval doom.
Isobel
Andrews
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New Zealand Listener, Volume 10, Issue 253, 28 April 1944, Page 6
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232Ghosts In The City New Zealand Listener, Volume 10, Issue 253, 28 April 1944, Page 6
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Copyright in the work University Entrance by Janet Frame (credited as J.F., 22 March 1946, page 18), is owned by the Janet Frame Literary Trust. The National Library has been granted permission to digitise this article and make it available online as part of this digitised version of the New Zealand Listener. You can search, browse, and print this article for research and personal study only. Permission must be obtained from the Janet Frame Literary Trust for any other use.
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