"His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast a single onyx
With chrysophrase inlaid."
Come within earshot of his drowsy hum, his breezy bass,—Father Tabb's publican bee,
"Collecting the tax
On honey and wax,"
or Emerson's yellow-breeched philosopher,
"Seeing only what is fair,
Sipping only what is sweet."