A woman I have never seen before br Steps from the darkness of her town-house door br At just that crux of time when she is made br So beautiful that she or time must fade. br br What use to claim that as she tugs her gloves br A phantom heraldry of all the loves br Blares from the lintel? That the staggered sun br Forgets, in his confusion, how to run? br br Still, nothing changes as her perfect feet br Click down the walk that issues in the street, br Leaving the stations of her body there br Like whips that map the countries of the air.