Audience of Strangers

There was a poem I ran across a few years ago. Fairly short thing--I have an impression of eight lines or so--and I don't think it rhymed. It was a discussion of lovely colours, and how they weren't so lovely in the right (wrong?) context; the only line I can remember is something along the very loose lines of "And green is lovely, but not so lovely in a wound."

My Googling skills have failed me. Anyone?

ETA: Found! It's "Pathology of Colours" by Dannie Abse. Thanks, aurora_verde.