Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Grey CrustLaurence Vail
I
Of the thought fretting in my body,
Of the body wrapped round my thought.
The curious panting creatures I would be—
Along the grey crust of the street.
Girl going whither I know not!
I would have her shrill eager breasts—
Gusts of storm driving the sail of her blouse;
Her round polished knees, rising, moving like pendulums—
Engines urging the sail of her skirt;
Her sharp bird-like head cleaving the sail of the wind.
I would have the curious blood of her,
I would have her dream.
Child carried in the arms of a mother,
Child carried whither he knows not!—
I would have the gurgling mirth
Emanating from gay-colored baubles;
The shiver, the sweat and the nightmare
Emanating from dark wrangling shadows:
I would have his untinted history,
And the hunger
To seize the whole world by the mouth.