My joy when I found it again by the smell;
And I took to my heart (as one may say),
Once more that redolent, long lost clay.
I love it! I love it! as I have said,
I smoke it abroad, and I smoke it abed;
And if the prophecy turn out right
That I’m burned to a cinder some fine night,
I’ll simply deem it a glorious way
Of ending my life with my faithful clay.
The Manchester City Jackdaw. April 21, 1876.