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TREES AND OTHER POEMS

DELICATESSEN (continued) His world has narrow walls, it seems;

By counters is his soul confined;

His wares are all his hopes and dreams,

They are the fabric of his mind.

Yet—in a room above the store

There is a woman—and a child

Pattered just now across the floor;

The shopman looked at him and smiled.

For, once he thrilled with high romance

And tuned to love his eager voice.

Like any cavalier of France

He wooed the maiden of his choice.

And now deep in his weary heart

Are sacred flames that whitely burn.

He has of Heaven's grace a part

Who loves, who is beloved in turn.

And when the long day's work is done,

(How slow the leaden minutes ran!)

Home, with his wife and little son,

He is no huckster, but a man!

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