Thou shouldst possess thee of speech the power,
With the vapor that curls from thy graceful spout
What prisoned secret wilt thou let out?
Wilt tell how gossips have lisped and chided
At little suppers where thou hast presided?
Wilt ever laugh at the fortunes told,
The willing credence of young and old,
As the sibylline leaves thou didst unfold?
Forsooth, as I watch thee blink and shine
In that remarkable way of thine,