Explore "John Smith" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
To-day I strayed in Charing Cross as wretched as could be / With thinking of my home and friends across the tumbling sea; / There was no water in my eyes, but my spirits were depressed / And my heart lay like a sodden, soggy doughnut in my breast.
This way and that streamed multitudes, that gayly passed me by -- / Not one in all the crowd knew me and not a one knew I! / "Oh, for a touch of home! " I sighed; "oh, for a friendly face! / Oh, for a hearty handclasp in this teeming desert place! " / And so, soliloquizing as a homesick creature will, / Incontinent, I wandered down the noisy, bustling hill / And drifted, automatic-like and vaguely, into Lowe's, / Where Fortune had in store a panacea for my woes.