The crocuses in the Square
  Lend a winsome touch to the May;
  The clouds are vanished away,
The weather is bland and fair;
Now peace seems everywhere.
  Hark to the raucous, sullen cries:
  “Extra! extra!”—tersely flies
  The news, and a great hope mounts, or dies.

About the bulletin-boards
  Dark knots of people surge...