I breathed enough to take the Trick –
And now, removed from Air –
I simulate the Breath, so well –
That One, to be quite sure –
The Lungs are stirless — must descend
Among the Cunning Cells –
And touch the Pantomine — Himself,
How numb, the Bellows feels!
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Did we disobey Him?
Just one time!
Charged us to forget Him –
But we couldn’t learn!
Were Himself — such a Dunce –
What would we — do?
Love the dull lad — best –
Oh, wouldn’t you?
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