it?"

"Yes."

"Goes wi' a swing, don't it?"

"Yes."

"Very well then; what more can you want in a verse?"

"But you've got more--much more!"

"What more?"

"A great deal! Atmosphere, for one thing--"

"Why, 't was writ under a hedge," he explained. "And now, friend,
p'raps you'll oblige me wi' one o' yourn?"

"Indeed I would rather not," said I, finding myself oddly ill at ease
for once.

"Come, fair is fair!" he urged. Hereupon, after some little
reflection, I began reciting this, one of my latest efforts:

"Hail, gentle Dian, goddess-queen
Throned 'mid th' Olympian vasts
Majestic, splendidly serene
'Spite Boreas' rageful blasts.
Immaculate, 'midst starry fires