The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them-
all the exciting detail
of the chase
and the escape, the error
the flash of genius-
all to no end save beauty
the eternal-
So in detail they, the crowd,
are beautiful
for this
to be warned against
saluted and defied-
It is alive, venomous
it smiles grimly
its words cut-
The flashy female with her
mother, gets it-
The Jew gets it straight-it
is deadly, terrifying-
It is the Inquisition, the
Revolution
It is beauty itself
that lives
day by day in them
idly-
This is
the power of their faces
It is summer, it is the solstice
the crowd is
cheering, the crowd is laughing
in detail
permanently, seriously
without thought