OUT of a blowsy, bare, back room, Into the close and cobbled street, Down to his drab and daily doom Passes a boy, whose powers be meet, 'Neath friendlier star, To bear him far, But who, though born a child of Light, Is bid to stand in spiritual Night. His hand holds fast a bag. His heart Harbours resentment, grips at shame, His soul endures the secret smart Of one whom generous goals enflame To earn renown, Yet is flung down Unjustly, bestially, and brought, By others' idiocy, to naught. Broken in will with foolish speech, Depressed by family dispraise, Too disciplined to dare impeach His parents' unregarding ways, Helpless, alone, He hastens on— Caught, cramped, conventioned—as one urged with goad, Through Leicester town, along the London Road. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONATA IN PATHOS by CONRAD AIKEN THE TRASH MEN by CHARLES BUKOWSKI WOODSMOKE AT 70 by HAYDEN CARRUTH AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE ROAD TO AVIGNON by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TUNICA PALLIO PROPRIOR by MARIANNE MOORE |