And found his master’s humble spirit out;
He would at awful distance snatch a look,
Then run away and hide him in some nook;
“For oh!” quoth he, “I dare not fix my sight
On him, his grandeur puts me in a fright;
Oh! Mister Jacob, when you wait on him,
Do you not quake and tremble every limb?”
The Steward soon had orders - “Summers, see
That Sam be clothed, and let him wait on me.”
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