A glimpse of red eyes in the street As I hurry along; A face too pale to be sweet, Too sad to be strong; A face that will nevermore know, Though it die in its pride, That last sad solace of woe -- The power to hide. Ah, sister, we seem not to care, Nor know what to do; But the street has become one long prayer In pity of you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST IMPELLED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE OCTOROON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HILDRUP TUBBS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN WASSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |