"Nothing much here!" they say. With careless glance And little sly disdainful pokes they pass. "I only came because there was a chance Of getting something cheap. But then, this class Of people seldom has a thing worth while." Coming and going. . . jibes in every tone. "There's not much here!". . . Face frozen in a smile She stands among them, terribly alone, Hearing the auctioneer's decisive cries, Hearing them bid, half mocking, half amused, Praying, with pain that stabs between the eyes, That no one wants the mug her baby used, Clutching her heart when someone takes away All her young married life in one small dray. |