As I wandered over the city through the night, I saw many strange things: But I have forgotten all Except one painted face. Gaudy, shameless night-orchid, Heavy, flushed, sticky with narcotic perfume, There was something in you which made me prefer you Above all the feeble forget-me-nots of the world. You were neither burnt out nor pallid, There was plain, coarse, vulgar meaning in every line of you And no make-believe: You were at least alive, When all the rest were but puppets of the night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 3. THAILALND by KAREN SWENSON THE GARDEN AGAIN by KAREN SWENSON HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: MARSH SONG - AT SUNSET by SIDNEY LANIER THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 113, TO ONE WITH HIS SONNETS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE TOAD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT WHY TELL? by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |