Of all the gracious gifts of Spring,
Is there another can safely surpass
This delicate, voluptuous thing--
This dapple-green, plump-shouldered bass?
Upon a damask napkin laid,
What exhalations superfine
Our gustatory nerves pervade,
Provoking quenchless thirsts for wine.

The ancients loved this noble fish,
And, coming from the kitchen fire
All piping hot upon a dish,
What raptures did he not inspire!
"Fish should swim twice," they used to say--
Once in their native vapid brine,
And then a better way--
You understand? Fetch on the wine!

Ah, dainty monarch of the flood,
How often have I cast for you--
How often sadly seen you scud
Where weeds and pussy willows grew!
How often have you filched my bait!
How often have you snapped my treacherous line!--
Yet here I have you on this plate.
You _shall_ swim twice, and _now_ in _wine_!

And, harkee, garcon! let the blood