cheeks --
Standing in front of a jeweler's window.
She was looking at diamonds --
A tray of great blue-white diamonds --
And I saw a flame leap out of her eyes to meet them
(Greedy eyes they were, and cold, like too-perfect
jewels);
And I realized, for the first time,
That diamonds weren't always pretty.

And then I SAW THE OTHER ONE:
A thin little girl looking into a florist's shop
At a fragrant mass of violets, dew-purple and fresh.
She carried a huge box on her arm,
And a man, passing, said loudly,
"I guess somebody's hat'll be late today!"
And the thin little girl flushed and hurried on,
But not before I had seen the tenderness in her eyes --
The tenderness that real women show
When they look at vast rolling hills, or flowers, or
very small pink babies.

I walked down Fifth Avenue the other day.
(All the world walks, leisurely, down Fifth Avenue
in the summertime.)



FROM A CITY WINDOW