THE LITTLE TEA BOOK 



THE TEA-'IABLE 



Tho' all unknown to Greek and Roman song, 

 The paler hyson and the dark souchong, 

 Tho' black nor green the warbled praises share 

 Of knightly troubadour or gay trouvere, 

 Yet deem not thou, an alien quite to numbers, 

 That friend to prattle and that foe to slumbers, 

 Which Kian-Long, imperial poet, praised 

 So high that, cent per cent, its price was raised; 

 Which Pope himself would sometimes conde- 

 scend 



To place commodious at a couplet's end ; 

 Which the sweet Bard of Olriey did not spurn, 

 Who loved the music of the " hissing urn." 

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 For the dear comforts of domestic tea 

 Are sung too well to stand in need of me 

 By Cowper and the Bard of Rimini ; 

 Besides, I hold it as a special grace 

 When such a theme is old and commonplace. 

 The cheering lustre of the new-stirr'd fire, 

 The mother's summons to the dozing sire, 

 The whispers audible that oft intrude 

 On the forced silence of the younger brood, 

 The seniors' converse, seldom over new, 

 Where quiet dwells and strange events are few, 

 The blooming daughter's ever-ready smile, 

 So full of meaning and so void of guile, 

 And all the little mighty things that cheer 

 The closing day from quiet year to year, 

 I leave to those whom benignant fate 

 Or merit destines to the wedded state. 



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