Looks as though a cyclone hit him— <br />Can't buy clothes that seem to fit him; <br />An' his cheeks are rough like leather, <br />Made for standin' any weather. <br />Outwards he was fashioned plainly, <br />Loose o' joint an' blamed ungainly, <br />But I'd give a lot if I'd <br />Been built half as fine inside. <br /> <br />Best thing I can tell you of him <br />Is the way the children love him. <br />Now an' then I get to thinkin' <br />He's much like old Abe Lincoln; <br />Homely like a gargoyle graven— <br />Worse'n that when he's unshaven; <br />But I'd take his ugly phiz <br />Jes' to have a heart like his. <br /> <br />I ain't over-sentimental, <br />But old Blake is so blamed gentle <br />An' so thoughtfull-like of others <br />He reminds us of our mothers. <br />Rough roads he is always smoothing <br />An' his way is, Oh, so soothin', <br />That he takes away the sting <br />When your heart is sorrowing. <br /> <br />Children gather round about him <br />Like they can't get on without him. <br />An' the old depend upon him, <br />Pilin' all their burdens on him, <br />Like as though the thing that grieves 'em <br />Has been lifted when he leaves 'em. <br />Homely? That can't be denied, <br />But he's glorious inside.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-homely-man/
