Why does the horse-faced lady of just the unmentionable age <br />Walk down Longacre reciting Swinburne to herself, inaudibly? <br />Why does the small child in the soiled-white imitation fur coat <br />Crawl in the very black gutter beneath the grape stand? <br />Why does the really handsome young woman approach me in Sackville Street <br />Undeterred by the manifest age of my trappings?<br /><br />Ezra Pound<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/simulacra-2/
