And, panting, looked into my master’s eyes
To read therein approval of my plan,
He turned his head, and for a little while
Waited in silence, while my petulant mind
Galloped again the course of argument
And found no flaw, all perfect.
Still he stood
Silent, and I, the riddle-reader, vexed
At long-delayed approval, touched again
His sleeve, and with impatient reverence