THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER

Ah very sweet! If news should come to you

Some afternoon, while waiting for our eve,

That the great Manager had made me leave

To travel on some territory new;

And that, whatever homeward winds there blew,

I could not touch your hand again, nor heave

The logs upon our hearth and bid you weave

Some wistful tale before the flames that grew....

Then, when the sudden tears had ceased to blind

Your pansied eyes, I wonder if you could

Remember rightly, and forget aright?

Remember just your lad, uncouthly good,

Forgetting when he failed in spleen or spite?

Could you remember him as always kind?