Someone is harshly coughing on the next floor, <br />Sudden excitement catching the flesh of his throat: <br />Who is the sick one? <br />Who will knock at the door, <br />Ask what is wrong and sweetly pay attention, <br />The shy withdrawal of the sensitive face <br />Embarrassing both, but double shame is tender <br />--We will mind our ignorant business, keep our place. <br /> <br />But it is God, who has caught cold again, <br />Wandering helplessly in the world once more, <br />Now he is phthisic, and he is, poor Keats <br />(Pardon, O Father, unknowable Dear, this word, <br />Only the cartoon is lucid, only the curse is heard), <br />Longing for Eden, afraid of the coming war. <br /> <br />The past, a giant shadow like the twilight, <br />The moving street on which the autos slide, <br />The buildings' heights, like broken teeth, <br />Repeat necessity on every side, <br />The age requires death and is not denied, <br />He has come as a young man to be hanged once more! <br /> <br />Another exile bare his complex care, <br />(When smoke in silence curves <br /> from every fallen side) <br />Pity and Peace return, padding the broken floor <br />With heavy feet. <br /> Their linen hands will hide <br />In the stupid opiate the exhausted war.<br /><br />Delmore Schwartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/someone-is-harshly-coughing-as-before/
