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The beach was crowded Pausing now and then

The beach was crowded. Pausing now and then
He groped and fiddled doggedly along
His worn face glaring on the thoughtless throng
The stony peevishness of sightless men.
He seemed scarce older than his clothes. Again
Grotesquing thinly many an old sweet song
So cracked his fiddle his hand so frail and wrong
You hardly could distinguish one in ten.
He stopped at last and sat him on the sand
And grasping wearily his bread winner
Staring dim towards the blue immensity
Then leaned his head upon his poor old hand.
He may have slept he did not speak nor stir
His gesture spoke a vast despondency..

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