For, looking at you, one would form the opinion
That you were a man of much worth and nobility,
That you were high in officialdom,
A councillor of the king or a learned judge,
Or one whose piety and wisdom
Had marked him out to sit above his fellow.

One would think thus to see the swinging arms,
The slow protuberant belly sheathed in a vest of scarlet,
And the gold chain of Albert, the great Consort;
To see the haughty head, the portly mien,
The solemn gait, and the complacency with which you view the world.

Don't interrupt! I only wished to tell you
That your claim to the excessive esteem of your neighbours
Is wholly without foundation.
Do please remember, Mister, that that scarlet belly
Was acquired by the labours of little children
Whom you employ to stick labels on bottles.



Upstairs

I have lifted her over my threshold to-night.
Many moons have risen and set since she received my napi;
But now she is here and has entered my upper room,
Where is a shrine for the joss of happiness,
And a soft couch and delicate hanging,
And fine things for fine fingers to handle,