What do they dream about standing there
   In the windows facing the street?
Eyes transfixed in a strange, far stare,
   Smiles so ineffably sweet;
Lady and gentleman dummies clad
In the newest fashion, the latest fad.
   Garbed so expensively, well turned out --
   What have they got to commune about?

Winter comes.  Now a chill wind stirs;
   The rain comes pattering down
But they suddenly snuggle in coats and furs
   And the coziest cloaks in town.
Field-glasses there or a race-book here --
"The National?  Why, of course, my dear,
   I mean to be there tho' Trophet may freeze.
   How could I miss it, in clothes like these?"

Spring smiles down and the days grow bright,
   And the ladies, garbed anew,
Change, like the tulips, overnight
   To gowns of many a hue.
As in a garden gay colors glow,
They are thinking of Henley, the Cup, the Show;
   While each glad gentleman, blazer clad,
   Is the beau ideal of the sporting lad.

But Henley comes, and the Show, the Cup;
   Yet no superior "gent."
No simpering lady e'er turns up:
   For, still in their windows pent.
Dressed for the revel, how like they seem
To me and to many who stand and dream:
   Poor human dummies, but half alive,
   Who are always "going" but never arrive.

"Den"
Herald, 10 May 1934, p6