Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
A Memory
By Isidor Schneider
From “America—1919”

WHAT shall I remember of this day?
The song that I uttered at rising?—
I have forgotten it.
The tapestry of yellow sunlight,
Over the wall of the house opposite?—        5
I have seen a richer cloth.
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?
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.
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
A smile lies on them, like the glint of a bubble;
A bright face like a tatter of rainbow,
Clothing a bubble.
Through them I see myself walking toward me,
And here I have met myself on a piece of paper.        30
This shall be my memory for to-day.

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