“Know,” said the Dame, “Sir Tray that with me dwelt
Lies on my lonely hearthstone stark and stiff;
Wagless the tail that waved to welcome me.”—
Here Waldgrave interposed sepulchral tones,
“Oft have I noted, when the jest went round,
Sad ’twas to see the wag forget his tale—
Sadder to see the tail forget its wag.”
“Wherefore,” resumed she, “take of fitting stuff,
And make therewith a narrow house for him.”
Quoth he, “From yonder deal I’ll plane the bark,