As the red flame enters its chamber.
(But again murmured the helve.)
There in that paltry village store,
Amidst onions, and turnips, and tape,
There did I rest in my dusky nook,
Whilst the smooth-faced shopman smirked and smiled,
With “yes marm!” and “no marm!” “did you say calico!
Calico or tape!
Joe, measure a yard of tape!”
Good heavens! even the blood of my father the oak