And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea
This stanza is interesting to me because i have never read a poem that uses this type of dark, abandonded, and creeping feeling imagrey like this one uses. These cynical and slithering words he uses like slides and rubbing makes it seem like something is creeping up to you. There is also the word murder that is put in there. It is almost like something is meeting you with a type of death or it being your time to be taken away from everything.