Having walked the tight-lipped Jersey streets, A house to every inward-turning love, Peaceful, neat, above all else secure, Pausing, I am ravished by their beauty. Years will tell the stories of these streets; Each house, the joy of its secluded love, As children come and go, indulged, secure, Singed or not by life's most awesome beauty. There is no quarter on these death-strewn streets, Each house the scene of terror, pain, and love, Redeemed alone by the passion of its beauty.
