The barnacle of crowds— Like a tuck On a finished skirt, unnoticed— He collected his material Covertly: A ragpicker, A scavenger of words. And the gleanings Of his hearing He would costume In his own words, And parade before A listener. So that now, Across the tea-cup, He was telling Of his research, Of his study, Of his deep thought-out Conclusions. And the lady, Connoisseur of old thoughts Bound in new gilt bindings, Smiled approval At the finding Of another curio To place In her long gallery. This poem is in the public domain. |
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