The Curb-Brokers

  HAIL, ye frenzied creatures, antic, mask-like figures,
  Shouting gibberish symbols, wheat and corn and cotton.
  Lo, the whole world is a maniac vision,
  Worm-eaten by black hopes and wriggling poisonous alarms;
Neither flesh nor blood nor God nor devil,
One great brazen throat and dollar-signs for arms.
   Hail, ye frenzied creatures,
   ’Tis a blue autumn morn!
   And did ye ever walk among the rustling rows of corn?

– Florence Wilkinson Evans (early 20th c.)

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