Vance Thompson

I WALK in Broadway to and fro

With the taciturn ghost of Edgar Poe.

Girls idle for us when the lights

Are red on the pavement there o’ nights.

Girls sidle with strenuous eyes for us,

With gestures urgent and amorous;

But we mock them, pacing to and fro—

I and the ghost of Edgar Poe.

“Dear Ghost,” I say to him, “to and fro

As you walked in Broadway long ago

Did the small girls idle for you and cry?”

“Ho! the black stars swung in a yellow sky

One night, one night—and a woman came

Out of a harem of wind-blown flame;

But the lips that she laid on mine were snow-

Bitter as ice,” says the ghost of Poe.

I make the sign of the cross.