Here in the forest in the early spring Beauty comes all too easily for me To love with that same ecstasy I found When she lay hidden in a city street. Beauty of tree and lake, of towering skies Is loved by every man and me no less Than others. But the one small crocus bud Growing forlornly in a dirty plot Before a small, unpainted, wooden shack -- A cart piled high with oranges and plums Pushed by a big black man with glistening arms -- A child with dirty face and broken shoes Turning Italian eyes of that rare blue Up to a stranger's face . . . A sunset seen Between a row of ugly, blackened, houses -- These things became a part of me for they Were only found by seeking patiently For beauty hidden in an ugly place. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW ON PLAYWRIGHT (1) by BEN JONSON THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER by THOMAS MOORE THE FEILIRE OF ADAMNAN by ADAMNAN A SOLDIER'S GRAVE by JOHN ALBEE EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 20. EVER PRESENT by PHILIP AYRES MIND IN CREATION by RICHARD BLACKMORE KITTY OF THE SHERRAGH VANE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE WANDERER: PROLOGUE. PART 2 by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |