That was the year when he stayed br Without work, for a living played br Cards, or backgammon; or borrowed and never paid. br br He was offered a place at a small br Stationer’s, three pounds a month. It didn’t suit him. br It was not decent pay at all. br He refused it without hesitation; br He was twenty-five, and of good education. br br Two or three shillings he made, more or less. br From cards and backgammon what could a boy skim; br At the common places, the cafés of his grade, br Although he played sharply, and picked stupid players. br As for borrowing, that didn’t always come off. br He seldom struck a dollar, oftener he’d fall br To half, and sometimes as low as a shilling. br br Sometimes, when he got away from the grim br Night-sitting, for a week at a time or more, br He would cool himself at the baths, with a morning swim. br br The shabbiness of his clothes was tragical. br He always wore the same suit, always displayed br A suit of cinnamon brown discoloured and frayed. br br O summer days of nineteen hundred and eight, I recall br The picture of you, and out of it seems to fade, br Harmoniously, that cinnamon suit discoloured and frayed. br br The picture of you has preserved him br Just as he would take off, would fling down br The unworthy clothes, the mended under clothes, br And remain all naked; faultlessly beautiful; a wonder. br Uncombed and lifted up his hair was; br His limbs a little sunburnt br From the morning nakedness at the baths and on the beach.br br Constantine P.