Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown,
And twice with vinegar, procured from town;
And lastly, o'er the favoured compound toss
A magic soupçon of anchovy sauce.
Oh, green and glorious! Oh, herbaceous treat!
'T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat!
Back to the world would turn his fleeting soul,
To plunge his fingers in a salad bowl!
Serenely full, the epicure would say,
'Fate cannot harm me,—I have dined to-day.'"