Colors

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.