Ezra Pound
A Pact
I make a pact with you, Walt Whitman--
I have detested you long enough.
I come to you as a grown child
Who had a pig-headed father;
I am old enough now to make friends.
It was you that broke the new wood,
Now is a time for carving.
We have one sap and one root--
Let there be commerce between us.
In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.