Walking through a vast city, the speaker comes across a group of women she finds more striking than anything else around her. They are the Women of the Green Houses, dressed in gold belts and long robes the color of wood grain. When they move, their outer garments open to reveal blood-red linings, compared to sharp-toothed maple leaves in autumn. There is a sense of quiet amazement: the speaker does not moralize or explain who the women are, only fixes on their colors and motion as if they are living works of art. The mood is dreamy and slightly exotic, turning an ordinary city street into a place of sudden beauty. The contrast between the unnamed “eight hundred and eight streets” and these vivid figures makes the encounter feel rare and almost magical.
Streets — Summary
As I wandered through the eight hundred and eight streets of the city, I saw nothing so beautiful As the Women of the Green Houses, With their girdles of spun gold. And their long-sleeved dresses. Coloured like the graining of wood. As they walk. The hems of their outer garments flutter open, And the blood-red linings glow like sharp-toothed maple leaves In Autumn.