While my eyes wandered one winter afternoon,
Around the ‘cross-road dark miserable saloon,
I caught sight of that visage,
Wearing a devastated, forlorn blaze.
I stalked at him for long,
To know what has been so wrong.
And for a time we looked at each other’s moron face,
But none of us made slightest of the haste.
After a day passed or two,
I gave him a smile to move.
The face became restrained from gloomy.
I felt better and left the saloon none to roomy.
On the footpath, about the infirm man I thought.
Whom I made happy, whose was the morose face I saw?
Why that face stared at me in such a terrible horror?
What caged his ecstasy behind that small dark mirror?
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