If you will pass with your eyes before you,
With motion narrowed as a flame,
I will not let my eyes assail you
To censure or acclaim.

You have a right to pass unquestioned,
Shaking the sounds off your feet
Like drying sand, and be forgotten
Along our quiet street.

You have this right, yet have it only
So long as you let your body be
What your shadow is that moves beside you:
A thing of blowing symmetry.