How do I explain myself to a man who thinks eating is pure pleasure? He looks on the passing scene as he chews. So that we can communicate, I speak about his food being nicely seasoned. He can smile at me between gulps, talking about the passing crowds of excited weepers and mourners headed -- where to? -- in such numbers. He would like to know to what disaster or to whose funeral. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TUNK (A LECTURE ON MODERN EDUCATION) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF JOHN KEATS' DEATH by SARA TEASDALE |