Association
Reading edition
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 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.