Once when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, Desperately gesturing with wasted hands In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum, I said to myself I would rather have been a tall sunflower Living in a country garden Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer, Rain-washed and dew-misted, Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks, And wonderingingly watching night after night The clear silent processional of stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MOTH SEEN IN WINTER by ROBERT FROST I'M GOING BACK TO SOMETHING by DAVID IGNATOW SYMPHONIC STUDIES (AFTER ROBERT SCHUMANN) by EMMA LAZARUS TO GOD THE FATHER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |