If I should learn, in some quite casual way, 
That you were gone, not to return again– 
Read from the back-page of a paper, say, 
Held by a neighbor in a subway train, 
How at the corner of this avenue 
And such a street (so are the papers filled) 
A hurrying man–who happened to be you– 
At noon to-day had happened to be killed, 
I should not cry aloud–I could not cry 
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place– 
I should but watch the station lights rush by 
With a more careful interest on my face, 
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care 
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair. 

Edna St. Vincent Millay