The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn.

When evening quickens fainly in the street,
Wakening the appetites of life in some
And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,
I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning
Wearily, as one would turn to nod good-bye to La Rouchefoucauld,
If the street were time and he at the end of the street,
And I say, "Cousin Harriet, here is the Boston Evening Transcript."
 
 

From T.S. Eliot. The Complete Poems and Plays of T.S. Eliot. Boston: Faber, 1969.