A dozen pencils, yellow, green, and blue, Alist within a thin old cap; a man Over whose head the grim war lightnings ran Awhile ago, and tore him half in two. Now nevermore shoulder to shoulder he Would walk with any other, never stand To look with equal gaze on sea or land. Slow passing feet his daily symphony. I paused to speak a word, as stranger may, Careful to give no hurt of sympathy. "'Erin go bragh!' The green the one for me!" The Gaelic heart sings in the rain alway. "You might be Irish, lady?" "Would I were!" "The saints befriend you, lady!" "And you, sir." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THANKSGIVING DAY by LYDIA MARIA CHILD ELEGY: 3. CHANGE by JOHN DONNE ON HEARING A LITTLE MUSIC-BOX by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT TEN YEARS AFTER by JOSEPH AUSLANDER EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 20. EVER PRESENT by PHILIP AYRES BEWILDERMENT by VERNE TAYLOR BENEDICT |