<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">The Pedlar</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">THERE'S a broken, lame old pedlar a-limping down the street,</p><p class="line">Cold sorrow at his heart, a hard road beneath his feet,</p><p class="line">Lifeless walls around him and a leaden sky above</p><p class="line">As he searches through the city for the face of his lost Love.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Red and blue and golden leaps the flame of his desire;</p><p class="line">Red, for glowing embers of a vagabond's night fire.</p><p class="line">Blue, to seek the deep unf athomed glory of the sea.</p><p class="line">And gold for Northern sunsets, wealth of beggars such as he.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">The fire and sea and sunset are the face of his lost Love,</p><p class="line">His heart is plucked by stronger chords than ever cities wove,</p><p class="line">But, buried 'twixt the pavement grey, grey walls and smoke-hid skies</p><p class="line">In a closely leaded coffin the old pedlar's lost love lies.</p></div></body></html> · Great War