Explore "The Grass in Madison Square" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The pleasant turf is dried and marred and seared, / The grass is dead. / No soft green shoot, by rain and sunshine reared, / Lifts up its head.
I think the grass that made the park so gay / In early spring / Now decks the lawns of Heaven where babies play / And dance and sing.
And poor old vagabonds who now have left / The dusty street, / Find fields of which they were in life bereft, / Beneath their feet.