previous next

     Or by the blown sea foam,
The thought of thee is home!

At breakfast hour the singer read
     The city news, with comment wise,
Like one who felt the pulse of trade
     Beneath his finger fall and rise.

His look, his air, his curt speech, told
     The man of action, not of books,
To whom the corners made in gold
     And stocks were more than seaside nooks.

Of life beneath the life confessed
     His song had hinted unawares;
Of flowers in traffic's ledgers pressed,
     Of human hearts in bulls and bears.

But eyes in vain were turned to watch
     That face so hard and shrewd and strong;
And ears in vain grew sharp to catch
     The meaning of that morning song.

In vain some sweet-voiced querist sought
     To sound him, leaving as she came;
Her baited album only caught
     A common, unromantic name.

No word betrayed the mystery fine,
     That trembled on the singer's tongue;
He came and went, and left no sign
     Behind him save the song he sung.


Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide Dates (automatically extracted)
Sort dates alphabetically, as they appear on the page, by frequency
Click on a date to search for it in this document.
1874 AD (1)
hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: