THOU hast not come from the ghettos of Paris and the villages of Russia. Thou art not the Rejected. I have seen the sun throw his cloak about thee and the rain huddle close to thee. Who art thou? Art thou the torch-bearer in the dimness of mist? Art thou the organist of old, love-worn music? Who art thou Who has placed me on this strange page of life? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I'VE NEVER SEEN SUCH A REAL HARD TIME BEFORE' by HAYDEN CARRUTH DESTINY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IVY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MAN WITH THE HOE OUTWITTED by EDWIN MARKHAM |