There's no way I'm going to let my week here go by without mentioning one of the best American poems by one of the best American poets, Delmore Schwartz (1913-1966). I identify myself mystically with Schwartz because we have the same initials, we were both editors at Partisan Review, and we've each admired Lou Reed.
The Beautiful American Word, Sure
The beautiful American word, Sure,
As I have come into a room, and touch
The lamp's button, and the light blooms with such
Certainty where the darkness loomed before,
As I care for what I do not know, and care
Knowing for little she might not have been,
And for how little she would be unseen,
The intercourse of lives miraculous and dear.
Where the light is, and each thing clear,
separate from all others, standing in its place,
I drink the time and touch whatever's near,
And hope for day when the whole world has that face:
For what assures her present every year?
In dark accidents the mind's sufficient grace.
- from Summer Knowledge: Selected Poems (New Directions)