In looking o'er the reams each post-bag yields.
But, mark me, I'll return the stuff no more.
When morning sees the groaning board
With my baronial breakfast spread—
With bacon crisp and snow-white bread,
And fragrant coffee freshly poured.
I greet with joy the cheerful sight,
When, hark! there comes the postman's knock:
I thrill as with a lightning shock
And bid adieu to appetite.