Wan, fragile faces of joy, Pitiful mouths that strive 'To light with smiles the place We dream we walk alive, To you I stretch my hands, Hands shut in pitiless trance In a land of ruin and woe, The desolate land of France. Dear faces startled and shaken, Out of wild dust and sounds You yearn to me, lure and sadden My heart with futile bounds. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO PROMENADES SENTIMENTALES: 1. RAIN by EDITH SITWELL AUGUST MOONRISE by SARA TEASDALE FROM THE GREATER TESTAMENT (XXII, XXIII, AND XXVI) by FRANCOIS VILLON PEACE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO MARK ANTHONY IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |