His face is that of a man terribly glad to be selling fish, terribly glad that God made fish, and customers to whom he may call his wares, from a pushcart.
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I HAVE kept all, not one is thrown away, not one given to the ragman, not one thrust in a corner with a ‘P-f-f.’
Keep them: I tell my heart: keep them another year, another ten years: they will be wanted again.They came once, they came easy, they came like a first white flurry of snow in late October,Like any sudden, presumptuous, beautiful thing, and they were cheap at the price, cheap like snow.Here a red one and there…
Let the crows go by hawking their caw and caw.
Let ’em hawk their caw and caw.Let the woodpecker drum and drum on a hickory stump.He has been swimming in red and blue pools somewhere hundreds of yearsAnd the blue has gone to his wings and the red has gone to his head.Let his red head drum and drum.Let the dark pools hold the birds…
SNOW took us away from the smoke valleys into white mountains, we saw velvet blue cows eating a vermillion grass and they gave us a pink milk.
Six bits for a sniff of snow in the old days bought us bubbles beautiful to forget floating long arm women across sunny autumn hills.Our bones cry and cry, no let-up, cry their telegrams:More, more-a yen is on, a long yen and God only knows when it will end.In the old days six bits got…
Your bow swept over a string, and a long low note quivered to the air.
Your bow ran fast over all the high strings fluttering and wild.(All the girls in Bohemia are laughing on a Sunday afternoon in the hills with their lovers.)
I am a copper wire slung in the air,
Night and day I keep singing–humming and thrumming:It is love and war and money; it is the fighting and thetears, the work and want,Death and laughter of men and women passing throughme, carrier of your speech,In the rain and the wet dripping, in the dawn and theshine drying,A copper wire.
I shall never forget you, Broadway
I’ll remember you long,Tall-walled river of rush and play.Hearts that know you hate youAnd lips that have given you laughterHave gone to their ashes of life and its roses,Cursing the dreams that were lostIn the dust of your harsh and trampled stones.