NO MAN who inhabits the smallest room That ever had tenant, (this side of the tomb,) Let its shape or its furniture be what they may, If his seat have been in it for day after day; If its little odd corners, the hardest to find, Were familiar as bosom-friends, time out of mind; If his coat have hung here and his boots lain there, And his breeches been toss'd about any where; No man ever left such a well-known spot, Uncertain if soon to return or not, But he stopped at the door, though he knew not why, And took a last look, and perhaps heav'd a sigh. So the doctor paused at the open door, With his hat in his hand that he always wore; (Its crown was low and its brim was wide, And an old prescription was stuck inside.) It seemed as the sight of his elbow-chair Embodied each lurking shade of care; 'What a thankless life is this we lead!' He murmur'd, as murmurs the broken reed, That whispers low at the river's side, To the wind that is ravaging far and wide. But bless me! where am I? I ought to compare A Doctor Despondent to something less fair. 'Tis strange what a walk a man's fancy will take To find out a figure, for simile's sake. But he said, in a very sad tone indeed, 'What a thankless life is this we lead;[17] The good Samaritan's part is mine-- Like him I administer 'oil and wine;'[18] But those who see me depart to-day, Will think me an incubus, passing away: Oh!--speaking of incubi--would not a wife Make something less bitter this dose of a life? She would clean out my phials, and make out my bills, And would do to experiment on with my pills: { I'll consider----' he said, as he shut the door, { And put on the hat that he always wore, { In his haste precipitate, 'hind side before. He hurried on foot to the car-dépôt; The engine was puffing, in haste to go. He seated himself on the hindmost seat, And he lean'd back his head, and he put out his feet, And he looked a peculiar look with his eye, And the man who sat opposite, wondered why; And he wondered more, when he heard him say That _steam_ locomotion had had its day; But what he was thinking, or what he could mean, That man did not know: it remains to be seen. END OF PART FIRST. FOOTNOTES: [14] For parallel passages, naturally to be expected in distinguished authors treating of similar subjects, I give a general reference to _all_ great poets, _passim_.