To wear his cast-off countenance!
“To rub his eyes whene’er they ache—
To wear his baldness ere you’re old—
To clean his teeth when you awake—
To blow his nose when you’ve a cold!”
His eyeballs glistened in his eyes—
I sat and watched and smoked my pipe;
“Bravo!” I said, “I recognise
The phrensy of your prototype!”
His scanty hair he wildly tore: