I SEEN, too clear and historic within us, our sins of omission Frown when the Autumn days strip us all ruthlessly bare. They of our mortal diseases find never healing physician; Errors they of the soul, past the one hope to repair. I Sunshine might we have been unto seed under soil, or have scattered Seed to ascendant suns brighter than any that shone. Even the limp-legged beggar a sick desperado has flattered Back to a half-sloughed life cheered by the mere human tone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MILKMAID'S SONG by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL ODE SUNG IN THE TOWN HALL, CONCORD, JULY 4, 1857 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON RELIGION AND DOCTRINE by JOHN MILTON HAY SONNET: WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. LEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON by JOHN KEATS THE DREAM THAT CRACKED A WHIP by FRANCES AIRTH THE DIFFERENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |