To live between terms, to live where death
has his loud picture in the subway ride,
Being amid six million souls, their breath
An empty song suppressed on every side,
Where the sliding auto's catastrophe
Is a gust past the curb, where numb and high
The office building rises to its tyranny,
Is our anguished diminution until we die.
Whence, if ever, shall come the actuality
Of a voice speaking the mind's knowing,
The sunlight bright on the green windowshade,
And the self articulate, affectionate, and flowing,
Ease, warmth, light, the utter showing,
When in the white bed all things are made.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Delmore Schwartz Poems
Analysis and Comments on Sonnet: O City City
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Sonnet: O City City here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.