Down glittering rows the windows run
displaying you in shoes or books,
your silk and linen draped upon
a thousand simpering yous in wax.
And all the owners' peering hopes
and the assorted crowds that pause
or stare unseeing at the shops,
are you before a looking-glass.
Marking his makers' thrust about,
the statue in the square maintains
through whatsoever change of light
a high authoritative stance.
The passing images of you
along my busy street of moods
leave me a maker-image too,
but in life's dancing attitudes.
RUE SOLIMAN PASHA, CAIRO.