What is it so transforms the boulevard? The lure of the passersby is not of the flesh; There are no movements; there are flowing rhythms And I have no need of eyes to see them there. The air I breathe is fresh with spirit-savour. Men are ideas that a mind sends forth. From them to me all flows, yet is internal; Cheek to cheek we lie across the distance, Space in communion binds us in one thought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCORN NOT THE LEAST by ROBERT SOUTHWELL THE JESTER'S SERMON by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY ANIMAL TRANQUILITY AND DECAY; A SKETCH by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LYSISTRATA: HYMN OF PEACE; CHORUSES OF ATHENIANS AND SPARTANS by ARISTOPHANES A SLEEPLESS NIGHT by ALFRED AUSTIN |