There was more to it, however; there was a tail to the kite. The
English have an inordinate fondness for hyphens, for mother's family
name and grandmother's family name and great-grandmother's, with the
immediate paternal cognomen as a period. Thomas' full name was a
rosary, if you like, of yeomen, of soldiers, of farmers, of artists, of
gentle bloods, of dreamers. The latest transfusion of blood is always
most powerful in effect upon the receiver; and as Thomas' father had
died in penury for the sake of an idea, it was in order that the son
should be something of a dreamer too. Poetry is but an expression of
life seen through dreams.

His father had been a scholar, risen from the people; his mother had
been gentle. From his seventh year the boy had faced life alone. He
had never gone with the stream but had always found lodgment in the
backwaters. There is no employment quieter, peacefuller than that of a
clerk in a haberdashery. From Mondays till Saturdays, calm; a perfect
environment for a poet. You would be surprised to learn of the vast
army of poets and novelists and dramatists who dispense four-in-hands,
collars, buttons and hosiery six days in the week and who go
a-picnicking on the seventh, provided it does not rain.

Thomas had an idea. It was not a reflection of his lamented father's;
it was wholly his own. He wanted to be loved. His father's idea had
been to love; thus, humanity had laughed him into the grave. So it
will be seen that Thomas' idea was the more sensible of the two.

The voyage was uneventful. Blue day followed blue day. When at length
the great port of New York loomed in the distance, Thomas felt a
thrilling in his spine. Perhaps yonder he might make his fortune; no
matter what else he did, that remained to be accomplished, for he was a