He had lots of po'try in him--not the stuff that rhymes, yer know, like 'The Psalm of Life' and so forth, but real po'try.

I wish I could tell yer what I mean--" His face was puckered into a thousand wrinkles with the intellectual effort, and his little diamond eyes gleamed.

"He could take a trumpery common thing like that there mug-faced, lop-eared hare and make it stand for the medi-what-you-call-it-forest.

I've said to him, 'Come out with me on the old 'bus if you want green and loneliness and nature.' And he has said--I recollect one talk in particular--he said, 'I'd love to hear' something about a pipe--I'm getting old, sonny--" "The Pipes of Pan ?" Paul suggested.
"The very words.

Lor lumme! how did you guess it ?" He paused, his fingers holding the lighted match, which went out before he could apply it to his tobacco.