Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/174

 LACK as a chimney is his face,
 * And ivory white his teeth,

And in his brass-bound cart he rides,
 * The chestnut blooms beneath.

"Sooeep, Sooeep!" he cries, and brightly peers
 * This way and that, to see

With his two light-blue shining eyes
 * What custom there may be.

And once inside the house, he'll squat,
 * And drive his rods on high,

Till twirls his sudden sooty brush
 * Against the morning sky.

Then 'mid his bulging bags of soot,
 * With half the world asleep,

His small cart wheels him off again,
 * Still hoarsely bawling, "Sooeep!"