Oh, how I long for the things This city could show me, -- Exotic folks who wear high red boots, And knew Russia. Writers gathered together to smoke, Wit easy and general. Explorers in science who talk of vastness And give you things to remember And wonder about, First thing when you wake The next morning. Around me are small drab folks, Dulled by physical labor and warped with their burdens, Unable to recognize in a neighbor Imagination, like a stag, Trying to hold A drab world at bay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BIRTHDAY POEM FOR THOMAS HARDY by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE MERCY OF LAZARUS by STEPHEN DOBYNS DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FINALITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HEART'S RETURN by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMEDAY BOOK: JOHN CAMPBELL AND CARL EATON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |