| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
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| II. The Children of the Night |
| 26. Fleming Helphenstine |
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| AT first I thought there was a superfine | |
| Persuasion in his face; but the free glow | |
| That filled it when he stopped and cried, “Hollo!” | |
| Shone joyously, and so I let it shine. | |
| He said his name was Fleming Helphenstine, | 5 |
| But be that as it may;—I only know | |
| He talked of this and that and So-and-So, | |
| And laughed and chaffed like any friend of mine. | |
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| But soon, with a queer, quick frown, he looked at me, | |
| And I looked hard at him; and there we gazed | 10 |
| In a strained way that made us cringe and wince: | |
| Then, with a wordless clogged apology | |
| That sounded half confused and half amazed, | |
| He dodged,—and I have never seen him since. | |
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