Waiterdom's wiles, Deacondom's pomp of port;
Rustic simplicity, domestic drollery,
The freaks of Service and the fun of Sport;
And all with such true art, so fine, unfailing,
Of touch so certain, and of charm so fresh,
As to lend dignity to Cabmen railing,
To fustianed clods and fogies full of flesh.
Nor human humours only; who so tender
Of touch when sunny Nature out-of-doors
Wooed his deft pencil? Who like him could render