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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.