Not we who daily walk the City's street; <br />Not those who have been cradled in its heart, <br />Best understand its architectural art, <br />Or realise its grandeur. Oft we meet <br />Some stranger who has stayed his passing feet <br />And lingered with us for a single hour, <br />And learned more of cathedral, and of tower, <br />Than we, who deem our knowledge quite complete. <br /> <br /> <br />Not always those we hold most loved and dear, <br />Not always those who dwell with us, know best <br />Our greater selves. Because they stand so near <br />They cannot see the lofty mountain crest, <br />The gleaming sun-kissed height, which fair and dear <br />Stands forth-revealed unto the some-time guest.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/acquaintance-3/
