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From “America—1919”
WHAT shall I remember of this day? | |
| The song that I uttered at rising?— | |
| I have forgotten it. | |
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| The tapestry of yellow sunlight, | |
| Over the wall of the house opposite?— | 5 |
| I have seen a richer cloth. | |
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| The scampering of the little white cat, which seemed to be dancing with its own fleas? | |
| The empty leg of my trousers, which the arm of the chair held up? | |
| The milk and bread of my breakfast? | |
| The untroubled blackness of the hallways, | 10 |
| In which even a shadow might stumble, | |
| And which knows no day and no night, | |
| Only Time, | |
| Who passes by, trailing a dusty coat-tail? | |
| The morning hush of the streets, where one could hear the gutter drains gurgling? | 15 |
| The sleek clouds that had fattened on the dew? | |
| The ring of my own feet on the pavement | |
| Sounding doubled, as though I were running to meet myself? | |
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| Doors are sieve-holes with a sift of people; | |
| And on Fifth Avenue they become a heap. | 20 |
| But through them all I can see myself coming nearer. | |
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| Over the tall man’s shoulder, | |
| Around the stout man’s torso: | |
| Bodies are diaphanous— | |
| They have been worn thin by the usage of my vision. | 25 |
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| A smile lies on them, like the glint of a bubble; | |
| A bright face like a tatter of rainbow, | |
| Clothing a bubble. | |
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| Through them I see myself walking toward me, | |
| And here I have met myself on a piece of paper. | 30 |
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| This shall be my memory for to-day. | |
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