CENTRE STREET is very drab, Drab of look and drab of talk: There the maidens look like chalk, There old women leer and gab, There each doorway shows inside Breeding-grounds of fratricide. When I pass the fumes pour From each window, from each door -- Sullen fumes, musty fumes, As from sudden-opened tombs. "Nothing," cried I, "pure and sweet Ever came from Centre Street." There's a doorway, to disgrace All the others in this place, Here the foulest woman's skirt Lifts in instinct from the dirt. This door would I hurry past To escape its evil blast; But instead of smells astounding -- Sullen fumes and choking gases -- Came the loveliest of lasses From the doorway bounding. Nothing cleaner or more fair Ever burst on summer air: White shoes and white socks, Pink cheeks and pink knees, And pink sash to match these, And the daintiest of frocks. The sun was shining, it was noon: The pretty maiden passed me by Like a lovely butterfly From a drab cocoon; Or like a gull which, at one stroke, Swings from a ship's smoke, With no hint of gray or black On its clean and glowing back; Or like lilies white that come From the marsh's bronze scum. Swiftly did she go, and sweet Was the music of her feet On the cobbles of Centre Street. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW THE EXECUTIVE by DAVID IGNATOW HOPE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON I SING OF LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE STARLING; SONNET by AMY LOWELL CELSUS AT HADRIAN'S VILLA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |