Richard Francis Burton
THE CROCUSES in the Square
Lend a winsome touch to the May;
The clouds are vanished away,
The weather is bland and fair;
Now peace seems everywhere.
Hark to the raucous, sullen cries:
“Extra! extra!”—tersely flies
The news, and a great hope mounts, or dies.
About the bulletin-boards
Dark knots of people surge;
Strained faces show, then merge
In the inconspicuous hordes
That yet are the Nation’s lords.
“Extra! extra! Big fight at sea!”
Was the luck with us? Is it victory?
Dear God, they died for you and me!
Meanwhile the crocuses down the street
With heaven’s own patience are calm and sweet.
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Comments about this poem (Extras by Richard Francis Burton )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(November 19, 1942)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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