* * *
About six fathoms from the wall,
A blackened chimney (much askew)
Smoked in his face—and round and small
The chimney-pots destroyed his view,
Hard by—a popular highway,
With coal-dust turned to pitchy dark,
Where many a little dog doth bark—
Some black, some mottled, many grey.
He said, "My life is very dreary,