Of pavements and pursuing feet.
It soared, then settled in the mire,
Full in the middle of the street,
A mud-stained, shattered relic—not
The bright new hat I bought from SCOTT.
Now was my time; I rushed—but no—
Fate ever mocks an ardent man;
Even as I rushed, unwieldy, slow,
Bore down a ponderous Pickford-Van,
And under two broad wheels crushed flat