Once when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, Desperately gesturing with wasted hands In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum, I said to myself I would rather have been a tall sunflower Living in a country garden Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer, Rain-washed and dew-misted, Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks, And wonderingingly watching night after night The clear silent processional of stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONRAD AT TWILIGHT by JOHN CROWE RANSOM TROY PARK: 5. THE CAT by EDITH SITWELL MARCH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS OPPORTUNITY by NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 10. TO THE MUSE by MARK AKENSIDE DENNER'S OLD WOMAN by VINCENT BOURNE THE FUNERAL OF A VILLAGE GIRL by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX |