You know " The Teacups, " that congenial set
Which round the Teapot you have often met;
The grave Dictator , him you knew of old, —
Knew as the shepherd of another fold:
Grayer he looks, less youthful, but the same
As when you called him by a different name.
Near him the M ISTRESS , whose experienced skill
Has taught her duly every cup to fill;
" Weak; " " strong; " " cool; " " lukewarm; " " hot as you can pour; "
" No sweetening; " " sugared; " " two lumps; " " one lump more. "
Next, the P ROFESSOR , whose scholastic phrase
At every turn the teacher's tongue betrays,
Trying so hard to make his speech precise
The captions listener finds it overnice.
Nor be forgotten our A NNEXES twain,
Nor H E , the owner of the squinting brain,
Which, while its curious fancies we pursue,
Oft makes us question, " Are we crackbrained too? "
Along the board our growing list extends,
As one by one we count our clustering friends, —
The youthful D OCTOR waiting for his share
Of fits and fevers when his crown gets bare;
In strong, dark lines our square-nibbed pen should draw
The lordly presence of the M AN OF L AW :
Our bashful T UTOR claims a humbler place,
A lighter touch, his slender form to trace.
Mark the fair lady he is seated by, —
Some say he is her lover, — some deny, —
Watch them together, — time alone can show
If dead-ripe friendship turns to love or no.
Where in my list of phrases shall I seek
The fitting words of N UMBER Five to speak?
Such task demands a readier pen than mine, —
What if I steal the Tutor's Valentine?
Why should I call her gracious, winning, fair?
Why with the loveliest of her sex compare?
Those varied charms have many a Muse inspired, —
At last their worn superlatives have tired;
Wit, beauty, sweetness, each alluring grace,
All these in honeyed verse have found their place;
I need them not, — two little words I find
Which hold them all in happiest form combined;
No more with baffled language will I strive, —
All in one breath I utter: Number Five!
Now count our teaspoons — if you care to learn
How many tinkling cups were served in turn, —
Add all together, you will find them ten, —
Our young M USICIAN joined us now and then.
Our bright D ELILAH you must needs recall,
The comely handmaid, youngest of us all;
Need I remind you how the little maid
Came at a pinch to our Professor's aid, —
Trimmed his long locks with unrelenting shears
And eased his looks of half a score of years?

Sometimes, at table, as yon well must know,
The stream of talk will all at once run low,
The air seems smitten with a sudden chill,
The wit grows silent and the gossip still;
This was our poet's chance, the hour of need,
When rhymes and stories we were used to read.
One day a whisper round the teacups stole, —
" No scrap of paper in the silver bowl! "
(Our " poet's corner " may I not expect
My kindly reader still may recollect?)
" What! not a line to keep our souls alive? "
Spoke in her silvery accents Number Five.
" No matter, something we must find to read, —
Find it or make it, — yes, we must in deed!
Now I remember I have seen at times
Some curious stories in a book of rhymes, —
How certain secrets, long in silence sealed,
In after days were guessed at or revealed.
Those stories, doubtless, some of you must know, —
They all were written many a year ago;
But an old story, be it false or true,
Twice told, well told, is twice as good as new;
Wait but three sips and I will go myself,
And fetch the book of verses from its shelf. "
No time was lost in finding what she sought, —
Gone but one moment, — lo! the book is brought.
" Now, then, Professor, fortune has decreed
That you, this evening, shall be first to read, —
Lucky for us that listen, for in fact
Who reads this poem must know how to act . "
Right well she knew that in his greener age
He had a mighty hankering for the stage.
The patient audience had not long to wait;
Pleased with his chance, he smiled and took the bait;
Through his wild hair his coaxing fingers ran, —
He spread the page before him and began.