I caught, for a second, across the crowd-- <br />Just for a second, and barely that-- <br />A face, pox-pitted and evil-browed, <br />Hid in the shade of a slouch-rim'd hat-- <br />With small gray eyes, of a look as keen <br />As the long, sharp nose that grew between. <br /> <br />And I said: 'Tis a sketch of Nature's own, <br />Drawn i' the dark o' the moon, I swear, <br />On a tatter of Fate that the winds have blown <br />Hither and thither and everywhere-- <br />With its keen little sinister eyes of gray, <br />And nose like the beak of a bird of prey!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-rough-sketch/
