Poem by Delmore Schwartz

In the Slight Ripple, the Mind Perceives the Heart

In the slight ripple, the fishes dart
Like fingers, centrifugal, like wishes
Wanton. And pleasures rise
                                          as the eyes fall
Through the lucid water. The small pebble,
The clear clay bottom, the white shell
Are apparent, though superficial.
Who would ask more of the August afternoon?
Who would dig mines and follow shadows?
"I would," answers bored Heart, "Lounger, rise"
(Underlip trembling, face white with stony anger),
"The old error, the thought of sitting still,
"The senses drinking, by the summer river,
"On the tended lawn, below the traffic,
"As if time would pause,
                                         and afternoon stay.
"No, night comes soon,
"With its cold mountains, with desolation,
                                           unless Love build its city."

1. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
2. The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me
3. For the One Who Would Take Man's Life in His Hands
4. Cambridge, Spring 1937
5. Yeats Died Saturday in France

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