XI
“Shall I go there?” "As you like—
it will not matter; you are not at all important.”
The words stuck to me
like burrs. The path was hidden
under the fallen leaves; and here and there
the stream was choked. Where it forced a way
the ripples flashed a second.
She spoke unkindly but it was the truth:
I shared the sunshine like a leaf, a ripple;

thinking of this, sunned myself
and, for the moment, was content.

XII
There is nobody in the street
of those who crowded about David
to watch me
as I dance before the Lord:
alone in my unimportance
to do as I like.

XIII
Your angry words—each false name
sinks into me, and is added to the heap
beneath. I am still the same:
they are no part of me, which I keep;
but the way I go, and over which I flow.

XIV
The Bridge
In a cloud bones of steel.

XV
God and Messenger
This pavement barren
as the mountain
of which God spoke to Moses—
suddenly in the street
shining against my legs
the bumper of a motor car.

XVI
A beggar stretches out his hand
to touch a fur collar, and strokes it unseen,
stealing its warmth for his finger tips.

XVII
The elevator man, working long hours
for little—whose work is dull and trivial—
must also greet each passenger
pleasantly:
to be so heroic
he wears a uniform.