See how the dust the verdant turf is screening,
Where the calashes and the wagons throng!
Hand from the window--he's drowsy, the speaker,
In my saddle I nod, cousin mine--
Primo a crust, and secundo a beaker,
Hochländer wine!
Isn't it heavenly--the fish-market? So?
"Heavenly, oh heavenly!"
"See the stately trees there, standing row on row,--
Fresh, green leaves show!