- IKE a skein 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 anemia.
- 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.
- (Posted by Rafaela Souza)