WITHIN the iron cities One walked unknown for years, In his heart the pity of pities That grew for human tears. When love and grief were ended The flower of pity grew. By unseen hands 't was tended And fed with holy dew. Though in his heart were barred in The blooms of beauty blown, Yet he who grew the garden Could call no flower his own. For by the hands that watered, The blooms that opened fair Through frost and pain were scattered To sweeten the dead air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORDS INTO WORDS WON'T GO by CLARENCE MAJOR BURIAL OF MOSES by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN THE BRITISH CHURCH by GEORGE HERBERT ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 13. TO AUTHOR OF MEMOIRS OF HOUSE OF BRANDENBURGH by MARK AKENSIDE |