En robe de parade.
                                        Samain

Like a skien of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
        of a sort of emotional anaemia.

And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.
They shall inherit the earth.

In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
        will commit that indiscretion.

Added: on August 21st, 2008 at 4:41 AM | Viewed: 38933 times | Comments (19)

Poet: Ezra Pound (Ezra Pound Art)
Poem: The Garden
Poem of the Day: Oct 26 2006

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