by Wallace Stevens
I heard two workers say, "This chaos
Will soon be ended."
This chaos will not be ended,
The red and the blue house blended,
Not ended, never and never ended,
The weak man mended,
The man that is poor at night
Like the man that is rich and right.
The great men will not be blended...
I am the poorest of all.
I know that I can not be mended,
Out of the clouds, pomp of the air,
By which at least I am befriended.