Her portents, slurred his surname sweetly;
So up my smiler tripped—to me
Unknown completely.
Thus mystified, I needs must bruit
The weather—"It was rainy, rather."
"Yes," he rejoined, "It does not suit
My Poet-father:
"Strange how the damp affects great men;
My nephew, not the Wit, the Artist,
You know paints always smartest when