(For D.
M.
C.) The little man with the vague beard and guise Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said, "I'll show you all we've got now — it was size You wanted? — oh, dry colors!
Well" — he led To a dim alley lined with musty bins,
And pulled one fiercely.
Violent and bold A sudden tempest of mad, shrieking sins Scarlet screamed out above the battered gold Of tins and picture-frames.
I held my breath.
He tugged another hard — and sapphire skies Spread in vast quietude, serene as death,
O'er waves like crackled turquoise — and my eyes Burnt with the blinding brilliance of calm sea! "We're selling that lot there out cheap!" said he.
