VIII
All was arranged, and he could do no more But pass the time until the clock struck four. He wandered up the Market; far and wide The burly drovers elbowed him aside, The sheep regarded him with mild surprise Behind their hurdles, and the hairy eyes Of families of little porkers stared And cart-horses with braided tresses glared And stamped upon the cobbles. From their shed The calves looked bluntly round and many a head Of penned-up fowls peered through a wiry door,— “Jocko!” they cackled, “we will meet once more!”