Whence is our pleasure in things beautiful? We are not born with it, we do not know, By instinct of the eye or natural rule, That naked rocks are fairest, or flowers blow Best in their clefts, or that the world of snow Has other glory than of cold and ice. From our mother's hand we viewed these things below Senseless as goats which browse a precipice, Till we were taught to know them. With what tears I con the lessons now I learned so well, Of mountain shapes, from those dead lips of hers; And as she spoke, behold, a miracle Proving her words,—for at our feet there grew, Beauty's last prodigy, a gentian blue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO BAYARD TAYLOR by SIDNEY LANIER THE DUNES OF INDIANA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH LONDON VOLUNTARIES: 3. SCHERZANDO by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY WRAITH by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ON A BOY'S FIRST READING OF THE PLAY OF 'KING HENRY THE FIFTH' by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL CABOOSE THOUGHTS by CARL SANDBURG |