Innocent eyes not ours And made to look on flowers, Eyes of small birds and insects small; Morn after summer morn The sweet rose on her thorn Opens her bosom to them all. The last and least of things, That soar on quivering wings, Or crawl among the grass blades out of sight Have just as clear a right To their appointed portion of delight As queens of kings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JONAS KEENE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE FABRIC OF LIFE by KAY RYAN SONNET WRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTITION by JOHN KEATS CHRISTMAS IN INDIA by RUDYARD KIPLING TO FOREIGN LANDS by WALT WHITMAN UPON THE LATE LAMENTABLE ACCIDENT OF FIRE ... by JOHN ALLISON (1645-1683) |