FLESH, I have knocked at many a dusty door,
Gone down full many a midnight lane,
Probed in old walls and felt along the floor,
Pressed in blind hope the lighted window-pane,
But useless all, though sometimes when the moon
Was full in heaven and the sea was full,
Along my body’s alleys came a tune
Played in the tavern by the Beautiful.
Then for an instant I have felt at point
To find and seize her, whosoe’er she be,
Whether some saint whose glory doth anoint
Those whom she loves, or but a part of me,
Or something that the things not understood
Make for their uses out of flesh and blood.
(John Masefield)
More Poetry from John Masefield:
John Masefield Poems based on Topics: Beauty, Heaven- Biography (John Masefield Poems)
- The (John Masefield Poems)
- Seven Poems (John Masefield Poems)
- One of the Bo'sun's Yarns (John Masefield Poems)
- The Yarn of the (John Masefield Poems)
- The Passing Strange (John Masefield Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Heaven Poems, Beauty PoemsBased on Keywords: tavern, anoint, probed, whosoe, window-pane