I would not say to man, “Don’t spread yourself To win the admiration of mankind,” Since he who never spreads can never shine, And he who never shines is never seen, And he who’s never seen is counted out In the great game of life; yet what is spread Too thin entirely, when the sun shines out Must soon dry up and be a fly-away. There was a man who took his daily dine At a delightful _table d’hôte_, where he Was waited on by an obedient youth, Who, as a waiter, was a paragon Of quick politeness. He’d apologise If the sun shone too much, or if it rained, And say in simple faith that he would speak To the proprietor and have it changed, Then vanish like an elfin fly-away. The vulgar boarder at this _table d’hôte_ Was one who greatly loved to spread himself And play the imperial before the rest; And finding that the waiter cushioned it, Sat down on him severely. Every time He spoke he called him names, and said that he Forthwith would punish him in cruel wise Unless he tortled faster, or unless The steak was better cooked. And then he’d swear— Oh, death and dandelions! how he would swear! Till all the blood of all the boarders round Was almost turned to cherry-water ice, And each and all wished they could fly away. And yet this waiter had a fund reserved Of pretty stout pugnacity and pride, And every time the boarder called him “fool,” Or “low-born rooster,” he would add it up To the preceding pile of expletives, And think it over. He did not forget A single word. Of all the abusatives There was not one which proved a fly-away. At last the crisis came, when one fine day, For some imagined fault, the boarder said Unto the waiter, that unless he stirred A little quicker he would bung his eye, And take him by the legs _instanter_-ly And wipe the floor with him. But with that word He overdrew the account. That was the fly Which overset the camel, and the drop Which made the pail slop over. For the youth On that let out his Injun. All at once He turned both red and white, as fat and lean Are seen in a beefsteak before ’tis cooked, And blew his soul out in a fly-away. “You misspelled copy of a gentleman With all the meaning lost!—if you dare call Me names again as you have often done, I’ll bung your pallid eyes. You’ve said too much, So now just dwindle down. I’ve always been Obedient and polite, and served you well, As you were never served by any one, And all you ever gave me was abuse, And all because you were a vulgar fool. Now stop your noise, or I will sling you out Of yonder window for a fly-away!”