“Vainly was I bending, crooking, and with both my eyes a-looking,
Looking for my lost spondulic, like the Pleiad lost of yore;
Looking for the well-chewn fragment which I lost the night before;
Only this, and nothing more.”
“Spuds,” quoth I, “for thee I pineth,
Gone to where the woodbine twineth;
Gone, departed, doomed, and fated,
Gone to fragments dessicated;
Gone, as I’ve already stated,
Where thy worth no longer shineth,