O altars of a little comfort, altars of a dyspeptic god gone crazy in America for lack of personality (hamburger steak, Irish stew, goulash, spaghetti, chop suey and curry!) O lunch-room counters!
O tripods of a little secure religion, tripods of a little secure beauty! O kitchen fires!
O bedraggled romances, O alcoholic ladies in crimson and green mists, O women so cheap and ingratiating, O sacrifices for you, ladies, of all the flesh and all the brains! O saloons!
My malediction on the cowards who are afraid of the word (the word is a kind sweet child, a kind sweet child!)—Malediction on the sacrifices of the dumb and deaf!
Hesitating everywhere, hesitating fearfully,
The few poets, they who weigh with delicate hands,
