Where shall I find you— <br />You, my grotesque fellows <br />That I seek everywhere <br />To make up my band? <br />None, not one <br />With the earthy tastes I require: <br />The burrowing pride that rises <br />Subtly as on a bush in May. <br /> <br />Where are you this day— <br />You, my seven-year locusts <br />With cased wings? <br />Ah, my beauties, how I long! <br />That harvest <br />That shall be your advent— <br />Thrusting up through the grass, <br />Up under the weeds, <br />Answering me— <br />That shall be satisfying! <br />The light shall leap and snap <br />That day as with a million lashes! <br /> <br />Oh, I have you! <br />Yes, you are about me in a sense, <br />Playing under the blue pools <br />That are my windows. <br />But they shut you out still <br />There in the half light— <br />For the simple truth is <br />That though I see you clear enough … <br />You are not there. <br /> <br />It is not that—it is you, <br />You I want, my companions! <br />God! if I could only fathom <br />The guts of shadows!— <br />You to come with me <br />Poking into negro houses <br />With their gloom and smell! <br />In among children <br />Leaping around a dead dog! <br />Mimicking <br />Onto the lawns of the rich! <br />You! <br />To go with me a-tip-toe <br />Head down under heaven, <br />Nostrils lipping the wind!<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sub-terra/
