in Just-

    spring when the world is mud-

    luscious¹ the little

    lame² balloonman

    whistles far and wee

    and eddieandbill come by Hart Crane

    We make our meek³ adjustments，

    Contented⁴ with such random⁵ consolations⁶

    As the wind deposits

    In slithered and too ample pockets.

    For we can still love the world， who find

    A famished⁷ kitten on the step， and know

    Recesses⁸ for it from the fury of the street，

    Or warm torn elbow coverts⁹.

    We will sidestep， and to the final smirk¹⁰

    Dally¹¹ the doom¹² of that inevitable¹³ thumb

    That slowly chafes¹⁴ its puckered¹⁵ index toward us，

    Facing the dull squint¹⁶ with what innocence¹⁷

    And what surprise！

    And yet these fine collapses¹⁸ are not lies

    More than the pirouettes of any pliant¹⁹ cane²⁰；

    Our obsequies are， in a way， no enterprise.

    We can evade²¹ you， and all else but the heart：

    What blame to us if the heart live on.

    The game enforces smirks²²； but we have seen

    The moon in lonely alleys²³ make

    A grail of laughter of an empty ash can，

    And through all sound of gaiety and quest

    Have heard a kitten in the wilderness²⁴.