Once when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, Desperately gesturing with wasted hands In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum, I said to myself I would rather have been a tall sunflower Living in a country garden Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer, Rain-washed and dew-misted, Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks, And wonderingingly watching night after night The clear silent processional of stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SMOTHERED FIRES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BOOK OF STONES AND LILIES by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: BARNEY HAINSFEATHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ABU SALAMMAMM - A SONG OF EMPIRE by EZRA POUND WALT WHITMAN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |