William Carlos Williams

1883–1963

The Poor

It’s the anarchy of poverty

delights me, the old

yellow wooden house indented

among the new brick tenements

Or a cast-iron balcony

with panels showing oak branches

in full leaf. It fits

the dress of the children

reflecting every stage and

custom of necessity —

Chimneys, roofs, fences of

wood and metal in an unfenced

age and enclosing next to

nothing at all: the old man

in a sweater and soft black

hat who sweeps the sidewalk —

his own ten feet of it

in a wind that fitfully

turning his corner has

overwhelmed the entire city.