Explore "Country of Hunchbacks!" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Through by-streets at the kindest hour of day, / Till he deplore his stature, and incline
To measure manhood with a gibbous line;
Till out of loneliness, being flawed with clay, / He stoop into his neighbour's house and say, / "Your roof is low for me-the fault is mine."
Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead
Is great Apollo; and the happier he; Since who amongst you all would lift a head
At a god's radiance on the mean door-tree, / Saving to run and hide your dates and bread, / And cluck your children in about your knee?