Damn Your Calomel, Pills, Opium, and Blisters
The wide road with grassy margin
Stole quietly into the lake
Cool drink has preserved me
Caulked each fall with clay
Like an eagle's eyrie
He has passed his life in worse than solitude
Servility despised
Even a dead wildcat
Hence despotic habits
Crowded with piles
A strong one-horse waggon
With an occasional hen
High clay ramparts of shore swept
An immense curve
Girt with a belt of forest
Of homespun blankets and bolts of cloth
Blue ground with the sprig
Well bedizined with Roses and Gambage
The Colonel's Creek till
His will no appeal
Very type of an aristocrat
The old man ere he returned