Ah Foo by Myra Morris

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Before his little shop stands old Ah Foo,
   Smoothing ms wrinkled hands, his yellow face
   Inscrutable; and in that noisy place
      Watches the heavy traffic rolling by
Under the great bridge-arches shadowed blue,
      To where the river masts prick all the sky.

Within the little shop of old Ah Foo
   Stand canisters of tea in green and red --
   Fat ginger-jars with lovely glazes spread;
      Old scarlet lacquer lids. and bits of jade,
Like pools at evening; shallow bowls of blue,
   And tall, black cabinets with pearl inlaid.

Watching the street, unmoving, stands Ah Foo.
   The flooded rice-fields stretch before his eyes!
   He hears the coolies' chants, remembered cries;
      Sees dim, lost places 'neath his gaze unfold ....
Then fumbles for the door, and shuffles through,
      And sits and feels that he is old -- so old!

First published in The Bulletin, 24 February 1927

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on February 24, 2014 7:29 AM.

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