North Star

His boy had stolen some money from a booth At the County Fair. I found the father in his kitchen. For years he had driven a dray and the heavy lifting Had worn him down. So through his evenings He slept by the kitchen stove as I found him. The mother was crying and ironing. I thought about the mother, For she brought me a photograph Taken at a street fair on her wedding day. She was so trim and white and he so neat and alert In the picture with their friends about them---- I saw that she wanted me to know their dignity from the first. But afterward I thought more about the father. For as he came with me to the door I could not forbear To say how bright and near the stars seemed. Then he leaned and peered from beneath his low roof, And he said: “There used to be a star called the Nord Star.”