—Save in the dust of ruin, that baffles ken,
None saw Guion again.
Year after year, when the great March sunsets flame,
Let us remember his name.
POVERTY ROW
Brave old neighbors in Poverty Row,
Why should we grudge to dwell with you?
Pinch of poverty well ye know—
Doubtful dinner and clouted shoe.
Grinned the wolf at your doors, and yet