THEY scarred the hillside here to build a town: gaunt above slag and cinder, and despising the paint-splashed cabins, muddy pink and brown, the tipple looms — vast, black, uncompromising. All day the wagons lumber past: the wide squat wheels hub deep, the horses strained and still, the headlong rain pours down all day to hide the blackened stumps, the ulcerated hill. O beauty: all my life I loved you fiercely and even in this desolate place, where rain drips endlessly from all the eaves, and scarcely a leaf sprouts, and the earth is wracked with pain beauty is hammering, pounding through my brain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE MILE END ROAD by AMY LEVY INSPIRATION (2) by HENRY DAVID THOREAU TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER INTO THE TWILIGHT by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON THOSE THAT HATED 'THE PLAYBOY OF THE WESTERN WORLD' by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS NUPTIAL ODE ON THE MARRIAGE OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |