  HE glares out from the gathering dusk With furtive glancing eye, A creature hunted, and at war With every passer-by. Such a malignant face he turns, You feel a sudden fear, Born of the knowledge which proclaims An evil thing is near. A man goes by—ah, mark that scowl— A woman young and fair, Evil the look he bends on her— Then comes a gallant pair. A laddie tall, and by his side A baby-girl, who cries Good night! out to the miscreant, And laughs up in his eyes. At strife is he with all the world, But for a moment’s space, Something akin to tenderness Flares up in that dark face. |
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