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?”
Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot —
I think a Súfi pipkin — waxing hot —
“All this of Pot and Potter — Tell me then,
“Who is the Potter, pray, and who 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 ’t will 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.”