Association
He sat across from me, one hand on chin,The other, carrion-clawed, twitched side to side,And I could see how brittle was his skinLike crust of bread too long in oven dried.We had been talking as two strangers willAt times. But just then something I had saidHad seemed to shake him like a fever-chillThe way he shook, the way his face went red.As I sat wondering why he let me seeThis grief or shame which smote him to the core,He slowly fluttered, took the wine from me,Poured twice and drank; then filled his glass once more,Smiled wistfully, and, raising up his head,Told me that it was nothing I had said.MORRIS TYLER.
He sat across from me, one hand on chin,The other, carrion-clawed, twitched side to side,And I could see how brittle was his skinLike crust of bread too long in oven dried.We had been talking as two strangers willAt times. But just then something I had saidHad seemed to shake him like a fever-chillThe way he shook, the way his face went red.As I sat wondering why he let me seeThis grief or shame which smote him to the core,He slowly fluttered, took the wine from me,Poured twice and drank; then filled his glass once more,Smiled wistfully, and, raising up his head,Told me that it was nothing I had said.MORRIS TYLER.
He sat across from me, one hand on chin,The other, carrion-clawed, twitched side to side,And I could see how brittle was his skinLike crust of bread too long in oven dried.We had been talking as two strangers willAt times. But just then something I had saidHad seemed to shake him like a fever-chillThe way he shook, the way his face went red.
He sat across from me, one hand on chin,
The other, carrion-clawed, twitched side to side,
And I could see how brittle was his skin
Like crust of bread too long in oven dried.
We had been talking as two strangers will
At times. But just then something I had said
Had seemed to shake him like a fever-chill
The way he shook, the way his face went red.
As I sat wondering why he let me seeThis grief or shame which smote him to the core,He slowly fluttered, took the wine from me,Poured twice and drank; then filled his glass once more,Smiled wistfully, and, raising up his head,Told me that it was nothing I had said.
As I sat wondering why he let me see
This grief or shame which smote him to the core,
He slowly fluttered, took the wine from me,
Poured twice and drank; then filled his glass once more,
Smiled wistfully, and, raising up his head,
Told me that it was nothing I had said.
MORRIS TYLER.
MORRIS TYLER.