XIII.
But my cat I soothed by stroking, and small bits of bread kept soaking
In the milk, and gave them to her, dropped them for her on the floor:
Long I sat, strange things divining, with my head at ease reclining
Near the sherry I was wining that the dun’s eye gloated o’er;
But the liquor I was wining with his green eyes gloating o’er
He shall taste, oh! nevermore.
XIV.
Cloud by cloud the air grew denser, perfumed from my meerschaum censer,
I should think I must have smoked of pipes that morning half a score;