Orellana and Other Poems By J. Logie Robertson |
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IX. | IX.
THE PROMENADE. |
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Orellana and Other Poems | ||
119
IX. THE PROMENADE.
He beats his wife, who in the street
Hangs smilingly upon his arm
With such a sad, pathetic, sweet,
And tremulous grace in the deceit
—None but a devil could do her harm.
Hangs smilingly upon his arm
With such a sad, pathetic, sweet,
And tremulous grace in the deceit
—None but a devil could do her harm.
The crowds sail on, the coaches roll;
And once, as former friends drove by,
One tearful glance at him she stole:
Yet this man with the little soul
—He has a body six foot high.
And once, as former friends drove by,
One tearful glance at him she stole:
Yet this man with the little soul
—He has a body six foot high.
Orellana and Other Poems | ||