A Smile Given in Passing
As I walked the street in the purring eveningA little maid with yellow curlsTossed me a smile; and suddenly PennyfieldsGrew from darkness to light, and the light of the starsGrew pale.
I may not see her again, but I hold her smile in my heart,And she is with me in my shop and about the streets.My shop may tumble down;West India Dock may some time suffer a drought;Grief and Joy come for a day;And Hope and Fear, and Desire and DeedArise and pass, and are no more;But the beauty born of her quickened smileCan never die.