En robe de parade. Samain <br /> <br />Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall <br />She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, <br />And she is dying piece-meal <br /> Tof a sort of emotional anaemia. <br /> <br />And round about there is a rabble <br />Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. <br />They shall inherit the earth. <br /> <br />In her is the end of breeding. <br />Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. <br />She would like some one to speak to her, <br />And is almost afraid that I <br /> Twill commit that indiscretion.<br /><br />Ezra Pound<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-garden/
