Full text: The little review (12 (1926), 1)

hurry at a quarter after seven 
nothing, at a quarter after eight 
The earth trembled in all its members 
cracked open to reveal its secret subways 
stones from the cornice shattered at his feet 
Manhattan was destroyed by definition 
There is nothing human in the death of crowds 
human only to climb 
a lone man climbing the highest tower climbing 
along the shivering ledges (he reached the peak 
where rose the flagstaff, clasped it with his arms 
Whose laughter floats in the air above the city? 
and when the tower bends 
like a yellow birch in winter, what the burden 
hurled from the summit into the arms of the sun? 
They tied our hands with a chain of days 
and dimmed our eyes with hoping 
and stuffed our ears with praising 
our mouths with plenty 
We lived by the rivers of silence 
the seas of stupefaction 
O friends we shall get drunk, dead drunk 
go wallowing in the gutter among the stars 
I plucked a daisy of the fields 
Monday (she loves me not) 
Tuesday (she loves me not) 
Wednesday (she loves me not) 
she loves me tomorrow 
The clap of thunder, the noise of falling rain 

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