LITTLE fellow, brown with wind- I saw him in the street Peering at numbers on the posts, But most discreet¹：

    For when a woman came outdoors, Or slyly peeped instead, He turned away, took off his hat, And scratched his head.

    I watched him from my garden-wall Perhaps an hour or more, For something in his attitude, The clothes he wore,

    Awoke the dimmest memories Of when I was a boy And knew the story of a man Named Reuben Roy.

    It seems that Reuben went to sea The night his wife decried² The fence he built before their house And up the side.

    He wanted it but she did not, Because it hid from view The spot in which her mignonette And tulips grew.

    Nobody saw his face again, But each year, unawares, He sent a sum for taxes due- And fence repairs.

    My curiosity aroused,

    I sauntered forth³ to see Whether this individual Were really he.

    "Who are you looking for？" I asked His eyes, like two bright pence, Sparkled at mine； and then he said： "A fence."

    "Somebody burned it Hallowe'en, When people were in bed； Before the judge could prosecute⁴, The culprit fled."

    Well, Reuben only touched his hat And mumbled⁵, "Thank you, Sir," And asked me whereabouts to find A carpenter.