The blindest buzzard that I know Does not wear wings to spread and stir, Nor does my special mole wear fur And grub among the roots below; He sports a tail indeed, but then It's to a coat; he's man with men; His quill is cut to a pen. In other points our friend's a mole, A buzzard, beyond scope of speech: He sees not what's within his reach, Misreads the part, ignores the whole. Misreads the part so reads in vain, Ignores the whole tho' patent plain, Misreads both parts again. My blindest buzzard that I know, My special mole, when will you see? Oh no, you must not look at me, There's nothing hid for me to show. I might show facts as plain as day; But since your eyes are blind, you'd say: Where? What? and turn away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A RED, RED ROSE by ROBERT BURNS THE SNOW-STORM by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ON LIBERTY AND SLAVERY by GEORGE MOSES HORTON VERSES WHY BURNT by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR WOMAN'S WILL by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE WRITER'S JOURNAL: POSSESSION by BAYARD TAYLOR WHEN THE FOLKS COME ALONG by FREDERICK L. ALLEN |