Because we felt there could not be A mowing in reality So white and feathery-blown and gay With blossoms of wild caraway, I said to Celia, "Let us trace The secret of this pleasant place!" We knew some deeper beauty lay Below the bloom of caraway, And when we bent the white aside We came to paupers who had died: Rough wooden shingles row on row, And God's name written there -- 'John Doe'. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO POEMS TO HANS THOMA ON HIS SIXIETH BIRTHDAY: 1. MOONLIGHT NIGHT by RAINER MARIA RILKE DEWEY IN MANILA BAY [MAY 1, 1898] by RICHARD VORHEES RISLEY CLERICAL OPPRESSORS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER A WRECKED LOCOMOTIVE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE VALEDICTORY; THE SCHOLAR TO THE ASHES OF HIS LIBRARY by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB MAGICAL NATURE by ROBERT BROWNING TRANSFORMATION by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |