Author Harry Kemp Why, when I pass through moving faces Comes to meVisions of beauty no man knows of, None can see?And, in the midst of the long day's traffic, O'er and o'erWhy must I dream of a surf a-thunder On an alien shore? Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments