Imagine, now, a pork-shop—I don't know Quite where; but there, in many a tempting row, Most pleasing to the sight, Hung pork and hams, inside, and at the door Outside; "'twas grease, but living grease no more." (Byron is my delight.)
Behind the counter, mute and anxious, sat The owner of these goodly things; and at Them first, and then the door, He look'd alternate, for no one that day Had call'd to buy; the fog kept folks away. He thought the fog a bore!
Long had he sat in expectation vain; "He sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd and look'd again," Yet no one came to buy! The day was spent, he rose to shut his shop: Just at that moment he was led to stop,— A person caught his eye.
"A customer at last!" the porkman thought; Fancied some pork or hams already bought, And bow'd, "Your servant, ma'am! "Bad walking out o' doors to-day," quoth he. (This could not be gainsaid at all.) Said she, "Do you see there here ham?"
Now, though the fog as dark enough without, Inside 'twas clear: the porkman had no doubt, His ham he saw and knew: He could not make the question out; no more Could fancy why she kept so near the door, But said, "Of course I do."
She, with a grin facetious, said, "Well, then, I'm blow'd if you will ever see't again;" And ran away outright. The porkman hurried quickly to the door, Too late, alas! to see; for, long before, His ham was out of sight! T. G. G.
EPIGRAM.
You ask me, Roger, what I gain By living on a barren plain:— This credit to the spot is due, I live there without seeing you.