What is it so transforms the boulevard? The lure of the passersby is not of the flesh; There are no movements; there are flowing rhythms And I have no need of eyes to see them there. The air I breathe is fresh with spirit-savour. Men are ideas that a mind sends forth. From them to me all flows, yet is internal; Cheek to cheek we lie across the distance, Space in communion binds us in one thought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHILD OF THE ROMANS by CARL SANDBURG TO THE SMALL CELANDINE (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LANDSCAPE; TWILIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HAPPINESS THROUGH THE YEAR by J. MARGARET CRUTE ASHCRAFT THE OUTLAW'S SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE |