Poetry Archives

Among the mountains I wandered and saw blue haze and
     red crag and was amazed;
On the beach where the long push under the endless tide
     maneuvers, I stood silent;
Under the stars on the prairie watching the Dipper slant
     over the horizon’s grass, I was full of thoughts.
Great men, pageants of war and labor, soldiers and workers,
     mothers lifting their children—these all I
     touched, and felt the solemn thrill of them.
And then one day I got a true look at the Poor, millions
     of the Poor, patient and toiling; more patient than
     crags, tides, and stars; innumerable, patient as the
     darkness of night—and all broken, humble ruins of nations.