| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1611. The Clerks |
| | | By Edwin Arlington Robinson |
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| I DID not think that I should find them there | |
| When I came back again; but there they stood, | |
| As in the days they dreamed of when young blood | |
| Was in their cheeks and women called them fair. | |
| Be sure, they met me with an ancient air,— | 5 |
| And, yes, there was a shop-worn brotherhood | |
| About them; but the men were just as good, | |
| And just as human as they ever were. | |
| And you that ache so much to be sublime, | |
| And you that feed yourselves with your descent, | 10 |
| What comes of all your visions and your fears? | |
| Poets and kings are but the clerks of Time, | |
| Tiering the same dull webs of discontent, | |
| Clipping the same sad alnage of the years. | |
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