What? No More Witches in New York?

What? No more witches in New York—

When every night the sky

With flaming signs is crowded thick,

When letters eight feet high

Are scribbled clear against the dark;

When cats all made of light

In endless silken balls are caught;

When fountains fill the night

With colored splashings falling down

To fade before they go,

And bottles that pour on and on

Yet never empty grow.

When lighted cars in strings go by

Like dragons everywhere,

And music out of nowhere sounds

All up and down the air?

It's Magic, plain as plain can be,

And any one who'll say

There are no witches in New York—

Has never seen Broadway!