Unheeding each small street-boy elf
Who tauntingly cries, “clean thyself!”
Mild Dustman! in thy filthy face
A moral he who looks may trace,—
A moral which, perchance, hath struck
Thyself, when ’neath thy weight of muck;
For, to my fancy, in thine eye
A quaint philosophy doth lie,
Which says, “who dirt from others sweeps
More dirt upon himself but heaps!”