I thought the matter o'er. I vowed no more,
That I with grief would moisten any eye;
Henceforth, whene'er that Dustman passed my door,
Upon his beer he knew he could rely!
Nay more! For never heeding if my bin
Were full or empty, I that Dustman hailed;
His grateful smile my one desire to win;
I felt I could not help it if I failed.
Twice every week he came,—his twopence drew:
That Dustman seemed to brighten with his beer.