Strong, wrinkled, kindly face—those toil-worn hands—

Come, let us try the “inward eye” again....

Verily—see! Her sins do drop and float away from her

on the dirty oily water—little sins

that float like tiny, bright-red maple leaves

cast from a lusty old tree in the Fall.

She’s known the life of the full ripe seasons through ...

carefully and punctiliously shake, shake, shake!

Let us go too from the docks with lightened hearts,

groping our way on upward through the slums.