Rachel Lyman Field

Pushcart Row

In rain or shine; in heat or snow;

The pushcarts stretch in a long green row,

Close to the curb as they can crowd,

With men all shouting their wares aloud.

If you have need of a lettuce head,

Or a bunch of radishes shiny red,

Of onions, carrots, or cauliflower,

Oranges sweet or lemons sour,

Polished apples or dripping greens,

Fat little mushrooms, thin string beans.

Of fruits and berries plump and round,

By the basket, by the pound—

Bring out your purse and take your pick

Where the two-wheeled pushcarts cluster thick;

Where dogs and children play about

Wheels and pavement and gutter-spout;

Where the women wear shawls and earrings gold

And the men are mostly brown and old

With selling their wares in shine or snow

On the cobblestones of Pushcart Row.