Out of a reeking tenement she trips, Dainty and slim and delicately fair: Her cheeks are rose, and rose-red are her lips, She is a flower, grown in tainted air; You can't believe she could have flourished there, Where even noonday sun is in eclipse, Where grim reality the glamour strips From all life's dreams and leaves them stark and bare. Yet here she is, a flower lush and sweet, That throve, somehow, in rank and fetid soil; Young maidenhood, with light and lilting feet, And eyes which disillusion cannot spoil; And—miracle which few can understand— There are a million like her in the land! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO FUNERALS: 2. by LOUIS UNTERMEYER SOLOMON TO SHEBA by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS DISCORDANTS: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN THE FALL; A GREAT FAVORIT BEHEADED by LUIS DE GONGORA THE BRIDE by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL RING FROM THE RIM OF THE GLASS, BOYS by JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY |