Mabel Barker Huddleston: The Roof-Garden

“Since I lost my ancient wealth
These are they that have nourished my life
In this grotesque, grey desert of the town:
The leaping up of flame;
The widening of the sky at the corner of the street;
The soft renewals of steam at the funnel’s lip,
Rising, coiling, dissolving;
White flowers of the roofs
That in unfolding vanish.”