Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,
An essence that breathes of it awfully hard;
As thus good to my taste as ’twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower of bean-vines in Benjamin’s yard.
JACOB
He dwelt among “Apartments let,”
About five stories high;
A man, I thought, that none would get,
And very few would try.
A boulder, by a larger stone