ABSTRACT
Duck, Stephen Dear Madam, did you never gaze Thro’ optic glass on rotten cheese? There, Madam, did you ne’er perceive A crowd of dwarfish creatures live? The little things, elate with Pride, Strut to and fro, from side to side: In tiny pomp and partly vein, Lords of their pleasing orb they reign; And fill’d with harden’d Curds and Cream, Think the Whole Dairy made for them.
