I see you, refulgent ones,  
Burning so steadily 
Like big white arc lights...  
There are so many of you. 
I like to watch you weaving—   
Altogether and with precision  Each his ray—  
Your tracery of light, 
Making a shining way about America. 
 
I note your infinite reactions— 
In glassware 
And sequin 
And puddles 
And bits of jet—  
And here and there a diamond... 
 
But you do not yet see me, 
Who am a torch blown along the wind, 
 Flickering to a spark 
But never out.