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Poems (Marianne Moore)/TO A STEAM ROLLER

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4498527Poems — TO A STEAM ROLLERMarianne Moore
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 æsthetic   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.