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I The Street in Soho
OUT of the overhanging gray mist | |
| There came an ugly little man | |
| Carrying beautiful flowers. | |
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II The cool fingers of science delight me; | |
| For they are cool with sympathy, | 5 |
| There is nothing of fever about them. | |
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III Rest me with Chinese colors, | |
| For I think the glass is evil. | |
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IV The wind moves above the wheat— | |
| With a silver crashing, | 10 |
| A thin war of metal. | |
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| I have known the golden disc, | |
| I have seen it melting above me. | |
| I have known the stone-bright place, | |
| The hall of clear colors. | 15 |
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V O glass subtly evil, O confusion of colors! | |
| O light bound and bent in, O soul of the captive, | |
| Why am I warned? Why am I sent away? | |
| Why is your glitter full of curious mistrust? | |
| O glass subtle and cunning, O powdery gold! | 20 |
| O filaments of amber, two-faced iridescence! | |
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VI Go, my songs, seek your praise from the young and from the intolerant, | |
| Move among the lovers of perfection alone. | |
| Seek ever to stand in the hard Sophoclean light | |
| And take your wounds from it gladly. | 25 |
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VII Dum Capitolium Scandet
How many will come after me | |
| singing as well as I sing, none better; | |
| Telling the heart of their truth | |
| as I have taught them to tell it; | |
| Fruit of my seed, | 30 |
| O my unnamable children. | |
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| Know then that I loved you from afore-time, | |
| Clear speakers, naked in the sun, untrammelled. | |
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