I have a liking old
For thee, though manifold
Stories, I know, are told.
Not to thy credit
How one (or two at most)
Drops make a cat a ghost—
Useless, except to roast—
Doctors have said it:
How they who use fusees
All grow by slow degrees
I have a liking old
For thee, though manifold
Stories, I know, are told.
Not to thy credit
How one (or two at most)
Drops make a cat a ghost—
Useless, except to roast—
Doctors have said it:
How they who use fusees
All grow by slow degrees