An old woman rubs her eyes As though she were stroking children back to life. A slender Jewish boy whose forehead Is tall, and like a wind-marked wall, Restlessly waits while leaping prayers Clash their light-cymbals within his eyes. And a little hunchbacked girl Straightens her back with a slow-pulling smile. (I am afraid to look at her again.) Then the blurred, tawdry pictures rush across the scene, And I hear a swishing intake of breath, As though some band of shy rigid spirits Were standing before their last heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN TALL GRASS by CARL SANDBURG THE HILL WIFE: THE IMPULSE by ROBERT FROST TO A BLOCKHEAD by ALEXANDER POPE AFFINITIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT AN EPITAPH (AFTER THE GREEK EPIGRAMS) by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |