Page:The Man Who Died Twice (1924).djvu/26

 A year before I found him,

Pounding a drum and shouting to the street,

Fernando Nash heard clocks across the town

One midnight, and was forty-five years old;

And he was too far sundered from his faith

And his ambition, buried somewhere together

Behind him, to go stumbling back for them,

Only to find a shadowy grave that held

So little and so much. The barren room—

The same in which I sought him a year later—

Was not much larger than the iron bed

On which he sat; and all there was of music

About the place was in a dusty box

Of orchestrations for the janitor,

And in the competent plain face of Bach,

Calm in achievement, looking down at him

Like an incurious Titan at a worm,