And where his back-hairs so symmetrically part!
’Tis not that he shows his six feet all serene,
In the reddest of red and the greenest of green:
’Tis not his grand airs—gazing nursemaids that kill—
O no, it is something more wonderful still!
’Tis the thought how amazing a product is bred
From the finest of shapes and the emptiest head,
When in folly’s first flight launched to dazzle the eye,
Clad in all that’s most foolish of fashions gone by!
Most fragrant of valets, sought Folly a nest,