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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  William Carlos Williams

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Naked

William Carlos Williams

WHAT fool would feel

His cheeks burn

Because of the snow?

Would he call it

By a name, give it

Breasts, features,

Bare limbs?

Would he call it

A woman?

(Surely then he would be

A fool.)

And see her,

Warmed with the cold,

Go upon the heads

Of creatures

Whose faces lean

To the ground?

Would he watch

The compassion of

Her eyes,

That look, now up

Now down,

To the turn of

The wind and

The turn of

The shivering minds

She touches—

Motionless—troubled?

I ask you—

I ask you, my townspeople,

What fool is this?

Would he forget

The sight of

His mother and

His wife

Because of her?—

Have his heart

Turned to ice

That will not soften?

What!

Would he see a thing

Lovelier than

A high-school girl,

With the skill

Of Venus

To stand naked—

Naked on the air?

Falling snow and

you up there—waiting.