Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/316

POETRY: A Magazine of Verse He vent to the office in a plum-colored coat, Of the cut of the early 'twenties, And a voluminous stock— Though others might see but "mixed goods" And a four-in-hand. Some damsel, principessa or contadina, Hung on his lips, or carelessly betrayed his heart; And he, the young poet— Though he had never written a line (Such stuff as this having not yet been invented)— Lay down in dreamless slumber beside Keats, Close to the walls of Rome.


 * Some years passed by,

But Albert never budged from home. Savings grew slowly; no kindly patron appeared; no rich relation died. But less and less did Albert live In terms of Dodgetown and of Caldwell County. It was all Lambeth and Lincoln's Inn and Bridgewater House; The Schwarzwald and the Forest of Arden; The cypresses of Verona, the cascades of Tivoli, And the Pincian Hill.


 * At forty Albert was getting a lukewarm salary for lukewarm work;

And some small five-and-a-half per-cent investments