Out of the noise of tired people working,
Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,
His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing,
Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.
Eyes that told secrets, lips that would not tell them,
Fearless and shy the young unwearied eyes -
Men die by millions now, because God blunders,
Yet to have made this boy he must be wise.
A Boy
Sara Teasdale
(1)
Poem topics: god, people, war, wind, fresh, head, wise, young, clean, high, tired, noise, beauty, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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