And watched the fat go out with envious eye,
But could not speak for bashful delicacy.
At last it chanced that on a winter day,
The beef—a prize joint!—little was but fat;
So fat, that John had all his work cut out,
To snip out lean fragments for his wife,
Leaving, in very sooth, none for himself;
Which seeing, she spoke courage to her soul,
Took up her fork, and, pointing to the joint
Where 'twas the fattest, piteously she said;