Without this sweet confection of
Silk and passementerie."

Westward the good cab flew. The horse
Was kick-some, wild, and gay;
He tossed his head from side to side
In an offensive way.

He tossed his head, he shook his mane,
And he was big and black;
He wore a little mackintosh
Upon his monstrous back.

I mused upon that mackintosh,
All mournfully mused I;
It was too small a thing to keep
So large a beastie dry.

And on we went up Oxford Street
With a short, uneasy motion;
What made the beast go sideways I
Have not the faintest notion
But we ran into an omnibus
With a short, uneasy motion.

All in a hot, improper way.
The rude 'bus-driver said,
That them what couldn't drive a horse
Should try a moke instead.

Never a word my cabman spoke--
No audible reply--
But, oh, a thousand scathing things
He thought; and so did I.

"What ails thee, Ancient Milliner?
What means thy ashen hue?
Why look'st thou so?"--I murmured, "Blow!"
And at my word _it blew_.

PART II.

The storm-blast came down Edgware Road,
Shrieking in furious glee,
It struck the cab, and both its doors
Leaped open, flying free.

I shut those doors, and kept them close
With all my might and main;
The storm-blast snatched them from my hands,
And forced them back again,

It blew the cabman from his perch
Towards the horned moon;
I saw him dimly overhead
Sail like a bad balloon.

It blew the bandbox far away
Across the angry sea;
The English Channel's scattered with
Silk and passementerie.

The silly horse within the shaft
One moment did remain;
And then the harness snapped, and he
Went flying through the rain;
And fell, a four-legged meteor,
Upon the coast of Spain.

_First Voice._
"What makes that cab move on so fast
Wherein no horse I find?"

_Second Voice._
"The horse has cut away before;
The cab's blown from behind."

Then just against the Harrow Road
I made one desperate bound--
A leprous lamp-post and myself
Lay mingled in a swound!

And cables snapped, and all things snapped;
When the next morn was grey,
The _Telegraph_ appeared without
Its "Paris Day by Day."

PART III.

Oh, cheapness is a pleasant thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To get a thing at one-and-four,
For