My life is a great skirt of darkness,
But human kindliness has torn it through,
So that it shows ten thousand gaping rents
Where the light comes in.
A Smile Given In Passing
As I walked the street in the purring evening
A little maid with yellow curls
Tossed me a smile; and suddenly Pennyfields
Grew from darkness to light, and the light of the stars
Grew pale.
I may not see her again, but I hold her smile in my heart,
And she is with me in my shop and about the streets.
My shop may tumble down;
West India Dock may some time suffer a drought;
Grief and Joy come for a day;
And Hope and Fear, and Desire and Deed
Arise and pass, and are no more;
But the beauty born of her quickened smile
Can never die.
Of a National Cash Register
Last week this person, desiring to make it known
That he was in all ways moving up to the date,
Introduced into his insignificant shop
A machine-that-counts,
Called a National Cash Register,
Which announces to refined and intelligent customers
The amounts of their purchases.
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