A dozen pencils, yellow, green, and blue, Alist within a thin old cap; a man Over whose head the grim war lightnings ran Awhile ago, and tore him half in two. Now nevermore shoulder to shoulder he Would walk with any other, never stand To look with equal gaze on sea or land. Slow passing feet his daily symphony. I paused to speak a word, as stranger may, Careful to give no hurt of sympathy. "'Erin go bragh!' The green the one for me!" The Gaelic heart sings in the rain alway. "You might be Irish, lady?" "Would I were!" "The saints befriend you, lady!" "And you, sir." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 3. FULL MOON by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER FAUST: SCENE 1. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE HAARLEM HEIGHTS by ARTHUR GUITERMAN TO THE RIVER CHARLES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE STEADFASTNESS; THE LOVER BESEECHETH HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS WYATT |