A foretaste of a stew.
"I hungered long 'till my wasting form
Was a hideous sight to view;
But fit on a settler's fence to sit
To scare the cockatoo.
"My hair grew rank, and my eyeballs sank
'Till—wasted, withered, and thin—
The ends and points of my jarring joints
Stuck out through my parched up skin.
"Shrunk limb and thew, 'till at length I grew