Волны

           Iamnotawhimperinglittleanimalmakingfortheshadow.Itwasonlyforamoment,catchingsightofmyselfbeforeIhadtimetopreparemyselfasIalwayspreparemyselfforthesightofmyself,thatIquailed.Itistrue;Iamnotyoung--Ishallsoonraisemyarminvainandmyscarfwillfalltomysidewithouthavingsignalled.Ishallnothearthesuddensighinthenightandfeelthroughthedarksomeonecoming.Therewillbenoreflectionsinwindow-panesindarktunnels.Ishalllookintofaces,andIshallseethemseeksomeotherface.Iadmitforonemomentthesoundlessflightofuprightbodiesdownthemovingstairslikethepinionedandterribledescentofsomearmyofthedeaddownwardsandthechurningofthegreatenginesremorselesslyforwardingus,allofus,onwards,mademecowerandrunforshelter.

           ’ButnowIswear,makingdeliberatelyinfrontoftheglassthoseslightpreparationsthatequipme,Iwillnotbeafraid.Thinkofthesuperbomnibuses,redandyellow,stoppingandstarting,punctuallyinorder.Thinkofthepowerfulandbeautifulcarsthatnowslowtoafoot’spaceandnowshootforward;thinkofmen,thinkofwomen,equipped,prepared,drivingonward.Thisisthetriumphantprocession;thisisthearmyofvictorywithbannersandbrasseaglesandheadscrownedwithlaurel-leaveswoninbattle.Theyarebetterthansavagesinloin-cloths,andwomenwhosehairisdank,whoselongbreastssag,withchildrentuggingattheirlongbreasts.