For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use, And the choicest of wine is my colour; And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues The fuller I fill it—the fuller! IV. Think! You could not have done it. The stranger turned his head at the sound. —'How so?' says I. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. This morning I met him at the dock, and he wouldn't take the other fifty.
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