Beautiful, tragical faces, Ye that were whole, and are so sunken; And, O ye vile, ye that might have been loved, That are so sodden and drunken, Who hath forgotten you? O wistful, fragile faces, few out of many! The gross, the coarse, the brazen, God knows I cannot pity them, perhaps, as I should do, But, oh, ye delicate, wistful faces, Who hath forgotten you? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT by AMY LOWELL MAN AND WOMAN GO THROUGH THE CANCER WARD by GOTTFRIED BENN THE PASSING YEAR by MATHILDE BLIND A GLORY GONE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SPARROWS SELF-DOMESTICATED IN TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE by VINCENT BOURNE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE BRITISH, A.D. 1901 by EDWARD CARPENTER |