Complete, I grow within a field
And pleasant pasture often yield;
Behead me once, a suitor then
Is quickly brought before your ken;
Behead again, I am a word
That on the cricket-ground is heard.
Restore my heads, cut off my tail,
To name a spice you’ll not then fail;
Behead me now, and you will find
The master passion left behind.
Put on my head, my tail restore,
Complete me as I was before,
My second letter take away,
An envelope I am, you’ll say;
But now curtail me just once more,
I am an inlet on the shore.
297
My second is double my first,
My first is but half of my second;
And I’m sure you’ll admit that my whole
Is ten times the latter when reckon’d.
298
My first I went the other day,
And pretty surely reckon’d
A basket of fine fish to catch,
With hook and rod and second.
But I was out in reckoning;
A very pretty she
Of her fair face show’d just my whole—
And pretty soon hook’d me.