If I when my wife is sleeping <br />and the baby and Kathleen <br />are sleeping <br />and the sun is a flame-white disc <br />in silken mists <br />above shining trees,— <br />if I in my north room <br />dance naked, grotesquely <br />before my mirror <br />waving my shirt round my head <br />and singing softly to myself: <br />"I am lonely, lonely. <br />I was born to be lonely, <br />I am best so!" <br />If I admire my arms, my face, <br />my shoulders, flanks, buttocks <br />against the yellow drawn shades,— <br /> <br />Who shall say I am not <br />the happy genius of my household?<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/danse-russe/
