In every meanest face I see A perfected humanity; All men, though brothers of the clod, Bear promise of the sons of God. No human ore that does not hold A precious element of gold; No heart so blackened and debased But has for Him some treasure chaste. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHY PLAGUE ME, LOVES? by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS WINTER MOUNTAIN by MARIANA BACHMAN SONG OF AN ATOM by JOSEPHINE BARNETT THE GHOSTS' MOONSHINE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE RUNAWAY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SONNETS OF SEVEN CITIES: PITTSBURGH by BERTON BRALEY |