Maxim Gorky

I Every day the factory whistle shrieked tremulously in the grimy, greasy air above the workers' settlement, And in obedience to its summons stíllen people, roused before sleep had refreshed their muscles, came scuttling out of their little grey houses like frightened cockroaches. They walked...

I DYLAN THOMAS After the Fair The fair was over, the lights in the coconut stalls were put out, and the wooden horses stood still in the darkness, waiting for the music and the hum of the machines that would set them trotting forward. One by one, in every booth, the naphtha jets were turnéd down...