'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.'

Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot - I think a Sufi pipkin-waxing hot - 'All this of Pot and Potter - Tell me then, Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Po…

'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 …

After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; 'They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?'