A woman I have never seen before
Steps from the darkness of her town-house door
At just that crux of time when she is made
So beautiful that she or time must fade.

What use to claim that as she tugs her gloves
A phantom heraldry of all the loves
Blares from the lintel? That the staggered sun
Forgets, in his confusion, how to run?

Still, nothing changes as her perfect feet
Click down the walk that issues in the street,
Leaving the stations of her body there
Like whips that map the countries of the air.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Richard Wilbur's poem Transit


  1. Paul Van Deusen says:

    Can anyone analyze this poem, especially the last line?

  2. Rusty Merenda says:

    I first reasd this poem while riding on a NYC subway when I was dispalyed as part of some sort of promotion. It seemed so appropriate to be reading it while “commuting” as is the subject in the poem. I was particularly captured by the imagery of a “whip mapping the countries of the air”. Neeldess to say I have never forgotten it.

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