A Roadside Harp: A Book of Verses

by Louise Imogen Guiney

Not wholly where thou art the soul is cowed,

Nor the fooled capital proclaims aloud

Barter is god, while Beauty perisheth.

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In the Docks

WHERE the bales thunder till the day is done,

And the wild sounds with wilder odors cope;

Where over crouching sail and coiling rope,

Lascar and Moor along the gangway run;