Autumn 1949 • Vol. XI No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1949 |

Bombay

If I woke in Bombay it would be possible The rooftops would confuse me, and the dying men, Accustomed as I am to the skyline of the living And the jerrybuildings of tomorrow's life. But it is not possible that when in confusion I fled in the street, frantic for familiar sight, I should not see in some face there Your look, as Indian, as dense with life.

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