I never sat down with a dull tame “bore,”
But I loved a tea-party more and more;
And I backward flew to the cheerful sup
Like a bird that nibbles its sugar up;
And sugar it was, and more to me,
For ’twas blent with the flavour of good green tea.
The clouds were dull and rainy the morn—
So the gossips say when I was born.
The kettle sung and the jest was told,
And the teacups and saucers were green and gold.