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Edwin Arlington Robinson - Aaron Stark
Work rating: Medium

Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, —
 Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose.
 A miser was he, with a miser`s nose,
 And eyes like little dollars in the dark.
 His thin, pinched mouth was nothing but a mark;
 And when he spoke there came like sullen blows
 Through scattered fangs a few snarled words and close,
 As if a cur were chary of its bark.

 Glad for the murmur of his hard renown,
 Year after year he shambled through the town, —
 A loveless exile moving with a staff;
 And oftentimes there crept into his ears
 A sound of alien pity, touched with tears, —
 And then (and only then) did Aaron laugh.
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