Ezra Pound Poems
In A Station Of The Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet, black bough.
Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
Come, let us pity the married and the unmarried.
Dawn enters with little feet
like a gilded Pavlova
And I am near my desire.