To a Steam Roller
The illustration is nothing to you without the application. You lack half wit. You crush all the particles down into close conformity, and then walk back and forth on them. Sparkling chips of rock are crushed down to the level of the parent block. Were not 'impersonal judgment in aesthetic matters, a metaphysical impossibility,' you might fairly achieve It. As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one's attending upon you, but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.
This poem is in the public domain.
Born in 1887, Marianne Moore wrote with the freedom characteristic of the other Modernist poets, often incorporating quotes from other sources into the text, yet her use of language was always extraordinarily condensed and precise
Date Published: 1921-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/steam-roller