On the Causey

A GROUP dies on the causey; I am pleased
As any little lad that pelts with earth.
And now men are dispersing, keeping step;
Suddenly seems one of their steps to kindle;
A jet of gas begins to flame, I love it,
As men love kisses that relax desire.
The rattling of the carriages, I think
That I would linger here for only this,
And budge no more; and this steam-whistle calling,
To hear it, on the causey I would stay,
Having a sweet heart's-shivering at my cheeks;
And for the playing child there I would stay,
Even if the gloaming of the boulevard
Were but this child that sees no more his marbles;
Stay for the maiden who is singing somewhere
Before a candleless piano, while
Her tender body trembles half to feel
The street without crawling against the walls.
Stay for one breath; and nothing is alone,
All holds me.
                       And well I know I must depart.