On The Bus poem – Aldous Huxley poems | Poetry Monster

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

Sitting on the top of the ‘bus,

I bite my pipe and look at the sky.

Over my shoulder the smoke streams out

And my life with it.

“Conservation of energy,” you say.

But I burn, I tell you, I burn;

And the smoke of me streams out

In a vanishing skein of grey.

Crash and bump … my poor bruised body!

I am a harp of twittering strings,

An elegant instrument, but infinitely second-hand,

And if I have not got phthisis it is only an accident.

Droll phenomena!

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