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Fleming Helphenstine

 At first I thought there was a superfine
Persuasion in his face; but the free flow
That filled it when he stopped and cried, "Hollo!"
Shone joyously, and so I let it shine.
He said his name was Fleming Helphenstine, But be that as it may;—I only know He talked of this and that and So-and-So, And laughed and chaffed like any friend of mine.
But soon, with a queer, quick frown, he looked at me, And I looked hard at him; and there we gazed In a strained way that made us cringe and wince: Then, with a wordless clogged apology That sounded half confused and half amazed, He dodged,—and I have never seen him since.

Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things