Classic Poem

[First Version]

The old man who goes about
Gathering dog lime
Walks in the gutter
Without looking up
And his tread
Is more majestic than
That of the Episcopal minister
Approaching the pulpit
Of a Sunday.
Meanwhile
The little sparrows
Hop ingenuously
About the pavement
Quarreling
Over those things
That interest them
With sharp voices
But we who are wiser
Shut ourselves in
On either hand
And no one knows
Whether we think good
Or evil.
These things
Astonish me beyond words!