还必须建造更多的高塔——更多的高塔被摧毁——巨大的岩石被举起;他必须在高高的苍白的阳光下寻找他的面包，海鸥在他周围，乌云正好遮住他的眼睛…因此，他没有提起他坠落的梦，只是默默地喝着咖啡，耳边听到了可怕的呼啸风声，感到自己的呼吸被吸干了，看见高塔在他身边闪过，那棵小树在他下面膨胀起来……他拍了拍他儿子的头，又吻了吻他的妻子，迅速地环视了一下房间，想要记住这一点，-然后就出去了…这一次，他忘了他的桶。有些东西变了——但不是这条街——这条街还是老样子——是他自己。水坑在阳光下闪闪发光。在当铺门口，那只老黑猫眨着绿琥珀色的眼睛;屠夫站在窗边系围裙;还是那几个人走在他身边，抽着烟斗，读着晨报…… He would not yield, he thought, and walk more slowly, As if he knew for certain he walked to death: But with his usual pace,—deliberate, firm, Looking about him calmly, watching the world, Taking his ease . . . Yet, when he thought again Of the same dream, now dreamed three separate times, Always the same, and heard that whistling wind, And saw the windows flashing upward past him,— He slowed his pace a little, and thought with horror How monstrously that small tree thrust to meet him! . . . He slowed his pace a little and remembered his wife. Was forty, then, too old for work like this? Why should it be? He'd never been afraid— His eye was sure, his hand was steady . . . But dreams had meanings. He walked more slowly, and looked along the roofs, All built by men, and saw the pale blue sky; And suddenly he was dizzy with looking at it, It seemed to whirl and swim, It seemed the color of terror, of speed, of death . . . He lowered his eyes to the stones, he walked more slowly; His thoughts were blown and scattered like leaves; He thought of the pail . . . Why, then, was it forgotten? Because he would not need it? Then, just as he was grouping his thoughts again About that drug-store corner, under an arc-lamp, Where first he met the girl whom he would marry,— That blue-eyed innocent girl, in a soft blouse,— He waved his hand for signal, and up he went In the dusty chute that hugged the wall; Above the tree; from girdered floor to floor; Above the flattening roofs, until the sea Lay wide and waved before him . . . And then he stepped Giddily out, from that security, To the red rib of iron against the sky, And walked along it, feeling it sing and tremble; And looking down one instant, saw the tree Just as he dreamed it was; and looked away, And up again, feeling his blood go wild. He gave the signal; the long girder swung Closer to him, dropped clanging into place, Almost pushing him off. Pneumatic hammers Began their madhouse clatter, the white-hot rivets Were tossed from below and deftly caught in pails; He signalled again, and wiped his mouth, and thought A place so high in the air should be more quiet. The tree, far down below, teased at his eyes, Teased at the corners of them, until he looked, And felt his body go suddenly small and light; Felt his brain float off like a dwindling vapor; And heard a whistle of wind, and saw a tree Come plunging up to him, and thought to himself, 'By God—I'm done for now, the dream was right . . .'