The zeal of his peculiar magic,
Till every aunt is in despair,
And even Job (the cat) looks tragic.
Down goes a tulip's noble head!
(Poor Auntie Nell is nearly crying!)
And now a stately stock is dead,
And now a columbine is dying.
Vainly the cook with female lobs
Desires to hit the egg-box wicket;
And not among the housemaid's jobs—