Classic Poem

Under Monadnock,
Fold on fold,
The world's fat kingdoms
Lie unrolled.

Far in the blue south
City-smoke, swirled,
Marks the dwellings
Of the kings of the world.

Old kings and broken,
Soon to die,
Once you had little,
As little as I.

Smoke of the city,
Blow in my eyes —
Blind me a little,
Make me wise.

Dust of the city,
Blow and gust —
Make me, like all men,
Color of dust.

I stand on Monadnock,
And seem to see
Brown and purple kingdoms
Offered to me.