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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Emmy Veronica Sanders

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Passing

Emmy Veronica Sanders

From “Antagonisms”

I AM tired of roads.

I am tired of the going—the going;

And I am tired of passing people.

In the east a narrow streak of gold

And the flutter of wings of the little desires.

Bleakness of snow in the north

And in the south the taste of ashes on hot lips.

Westward a loneliness.

Roads over sand, and roads over snow, and roads across rivers.

I am tired of roads.

I am tired of the going—the going;

And I am tired of passing people.

I am tired of passing them on the glistening pavements under the lamplight

And in the places where you order things to eat.

I am tired of passing them at noon under the flat stare of the sun

And in the street-cars, the elevated trains and the taxis.

Passing glances and feet passing—

Feet of six million people passing and gliding by,

Shuffling and jostling by—

Passing—passing;

And those that pass on the screen in the movies,

And the people that pass—slowly—hurriedly—

With a half-caught gest through the pages of books.

I am tired of the winds that hasten by,

And of the little waves that skip and never once look back,

And of stars coming and going.

Fleeting glimpses—

Hands fluttering past like autumn leaves….

I am tired of roads.

I am tired of the going—the going;

And I am tired of passing people.