Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot---
I think a Súfi pipkin-waxing hot---
"All this of Pot and Potter--Tell me then,
"Who makes---Who sells---Who buys---Who is the Pot?"
"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
"Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
"The luckless Pots he marr'd in making---Pish!
"He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
"Well," murmur'd one, "Let whoso make or buy,
"My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:
"But fill me with the old familiar Juice,
"Methinks I might recover by and by."
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