by Arthur Upson
STRANGE that a sod for just a thrill or two
_J Should ever be seduced into the round
Of change in which its present state is found
In this my form—forsake its quiet, true
And fruitfullest retirement, to go through
The heat, the strain, the languor and the wound!
Forget soft rain to hear the stormier sound—
Exchange for burning tears its peaceful dew!
From:
Anthology of the Worlds Best Poems Volume II (Memorial -- Selected by Edwin Markham)
Copyright ©:
1948 Wm. H. Wise & Co., Inc. New York
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