Down narrow streets through dim lights may be seen, At early hours of morn of every day, A tiny old man, always clad in gray Of ancient cut, with cap of velveteen. Though bent his body, his black eyes are keen And note with interest all along his way, But never let a thing his steps delay, Until the shop's portals are passed between. This shop of antique relics gathered here By lovers of such things from far and near, Who revel in the nearness of their art And almost seem to be of it a part, Creates an atmosphere like some sweet dream, And he, the master relic, reigns supreme. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JEWISH LULLABY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE DEVIL'S WALK [ON EARTH] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SUMMER DAWN by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 32 by EDWARD TAYLOR FROM A DUSTY SHELF by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT HYMN FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF HARTFORD AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |