- Ah, could I peep at him by stealth Behind his ware, pass shop, intrude On house itself, what scenes were viewed! IV "If wide and showy thus the shop, What must the habitation prove? The true house with no name a-top The mansion, distant one remove, Once get him off his traffic-groove! V "Pictures he likes, or books perhaps; VI "Some suburb-palace, parked about VII "Or stop! I wager, taste selects Some out o' the way, some all-unknown Retreat: the neighbourhood suspects Little that he who rambles lone : Makes Rothschild tremble on his throne!" VIII Nowise! Nor Mayfair residence Fit to receive and entertain, Nor Hampstead villa's kind defence From noise and crowd, from dust and drain,— Nor country-box was soul's domain! IX Nowise! At back of all that spread X For why? He saw no use of life But, while he drove a roaring trade, To chuckle "Customers are rife!" To chafe "So much hard cash outlaid XI "This novelty costs pains, but takes? Cumbers my counter! Stock no more! This article, no such great shakes, Fizzes like wildfire? Underscore The cheap thing - thousands to the fore!" XII 'Twas lodging best to live most nigh Receipt of Custom; ear and eye Wanted no outworld: "Hear and see XIII My fancy of a merchant-prince Was different. Through his wares we groped Our darkling way to not to mince The matter no black den where moped The master if we interloped! XIV Shop was shop only: household-stuff? What did he want with comforts there? "Walls, ceiling, floor, stay blank and rough, So goods on sale show rich and rare! 'Sell and send home' be shop's affair!" XV What might he deal in? Gems, suppose! Good, better, best, star, moon and sun! XVI Which lies within your power of purse? XVII Howe'er your choice fell, straight you took XVIII Then off made buyer with a prize, Then seller to his Times returned XIX And whither went he? Ask himself, Not me! To change of scene, I think. XX Because a man has shop to mind In time and place, since flesh must live, All stray thoughts, fancies fugitive, XXI I want to know a butcher paints, Candlestick-maker much acquaints XXII But shop each day and all day long! From where these sorts of treasures are, EVELYN HOPE I BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the glass; Little has yet been changed, I think: The shutters are shut, no light may pass Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink. II Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name; It was not her time to love; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little cares, And now was quiet, now astir, |