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 That one should hear of it? I make a music

That you can hear all up and down Broadway.

Glory to God! Mine are the drums of life—

After those other drums. I had it—once.

They knew I had it, and they hated me

For knowing just what they had. I had it—once!”

At that his eyes glowed and his body shook,

And it was time to go. Fernando Nash,

I saw, would not be long in going farther.

The rough resentful egoist I had known

Was now a shell. The giant had been reduced;

And the old scorn that once had been his faith

Was now a sacrificial desperation.

A year before I found him in the street

Pounding a drum and shouting for the lost,