Because we felt there could not be A mowing in reality So white and feathery-blown and gay With blossoms of wild caraway, I said to Celia, "Let us trace The secret of this pleasant place!" We knew some deeper beauty lay Below the bloom of caraway, And when we bent the white aside We came to paupers who had died: Rough wooden shingles row on row, And God's name written there -- 'John Doe'. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MARK ANTHONY IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS IN THE WILDERNESS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES WHEN FIRST MY WAY by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET by JOHN KEATS TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: PAUL REVERE'S RIDE [APRIL 1775] by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE GRANDMOTHER'S APOLOGY by ALFRED TENNYSON THE HEART OF THE WOMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |