Pictures of 'Pictures at an Exhibition' 1: 'Promenade'

One foot falls
In front of the other
Through the wooden
Frame of the doorway
And echoes across
The hall and off
The paint as space
In its appearance moves.

It is like the sun, maybe introduc
-ing me to pale enclosures from the windows:
A grey light breaking through the context of the clouds.

If you look through this cascade of mirrors, in the cross
-fire of colors, the rosy awakenings of women's
Cheeks, which are already flickering
Like visions on the walls,

The heights that contain their ringing
As of bells, like birds,
Are as ready and distant
As the valleys underhead.

The serious smallness
Is like so many towering trees
In whose cupped cupolas
Castle our nests.

Bong, bong by twelve:
The clock tower strikes: it is the height
Of noon.