Elizabeth Coatsworth

From “Cockle Shells”

THAT man has the head of a goat and the paunch of Silenus,

As he walks down the sidewalk alone conventionally going to dine.

His little bright eyes are glancing, his little hard feet are prancing

As though all the crowd about him were maenads and fawns in a line.

The horns of the motors for him are puffed by the cheeks of centaurs;

The buildings and shops are cliffs, draped and festooned with the vine.

The little cane that he swings he has used on the ribs of his donkey

When the ground was rocking with laughter and the trees were reeling with wine.