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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  The New Poetry: An Anthology.  1917.
 
248. The Strange Companion
 
By Harold Monro
 
 
A Fragment
 
 
THAT strange companion came on shuffling feet,
Passed me, then turned, and touched my arm.
 
He said (and he was melancholy,
And both of us looked fretfully,
And slowly we advanced together),        5
He said: “I bring you your inheritance.”
 
I watched his eyes; they were dim.
I doubted him, watched him, doubted him …
But, in a ceremonious way,
He said: “You are too grey:        10
Come, you must be merry for a day.”
 
And I, because my heart was dumb,
Because the life in me was numb,
Cried: “I will come. I will come.”
 
So, without another word,        15
We two jaunted on the street.
I had heard, often heard,
The shuffling of those feet of his,
The shuffle of his feet.
 
And he muttered in my ear        20
Such a wheezy jest
As a man may often hear—
Not the worst, not the best
That a man may hear.
 
Then he murmured in my face        25
Something that was true.
He said: “I have known this long, long while,
All there is to know of you.”
And the light of the lamp cut a strange smile
On his face, and we muttered along the street,        30
Good enough friends, on the usual beat.
 
We lived together long, long.
We were always alone, he and I.
We never smiled with each other;
We were like brother and brother,        35
Dimly accustomed.
                Can a man know
Why he must live, or where he should go?
 
He brought me that joke or two,
And we roared with laughter, for want of a smile,        40
As every man in the world might do.
He who lies all night in bed
Is a fool, and midnight will crush his head.
 
When he threw a glass of wine in my face
One night, I hit him, and we parted;        45
But in a short space
We came back to each other melancholy-hearted,
Told our pain,
Swore we would not part again.
 
One night we turned a table over        50
The body of some slain fool to cover,
And all the company clapped their hands;
So we spat in their faces,
And travelled away to other lands.
 
I wish for every man he find        55
A strange companion so
Completely to his mind
With whom he everywhere may go.
 

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