An old Jewish pushcart peddler eats an apple on the Lower East Side, and the speaker studies his face closely. The man looks worn down—hard, pear-shaped face and tired, defeated eyes—but his mouth is unexpectedly soft, almost girlish. That contrast makes everything else about him seem like a grey backdrop. The speaker sees in that mouth the leftover traces of all the hopes and longings the man has buried under a lifetime of struggle. What might have hardened into bitterness has instead become a quiet tenderness. In the final image, the man walks away behind his pushcart, and the whole ghetto seems to leave with him, as if he carries the neighborhood’s weight and endurance in his body. The mood is gritty and melancholy but also warm with compassion.
East-Side: New York — Summary
An old Jew munches an apple, With conquering immersion All the thwarted longings of his life Urge on his determined teeth. His face is hard and pear-shaped; His eyes are muddy capitulations; But his mouth is incongruous. Softly, slightly distended, Like that of a whistling girl, It is ingenuously haunting And makes the rest of him a soiled, grey background. Hopes that lie within their grave Of submissive sternness, Have spilled their troubled ghosts upon this mouth, And a tortured belief Has dwindled into tenderness upon it.... He trudges off behind his push-cart And the Ghetto walks away with him.