Men turn'd to blue, by Cholera's last stage,
In common practice he had really seen;
But Green—he was too old, and grave, and sage,
To think of the last stage to Turnham Green!
So matters stood in-doors—meanwhile without,
Growing in going like all other rumors,
The modern miracle was buzz'd about,
By people of all humors,
Native or foreign in their dialecticals;
Till all the neighborhood, as if their noses