Those mass adhesive to the metal clings; Where the strong labial muscles must embrace, The gentle curve, and sweep the hollow space. With ease to enter and discharge the freight, A bowl less concave, but still more dilate, Becomes the pudding best. The shape, the size, A secret rests, unknown to vulgar eyes. Experienced feeders can alone impart A rule so much above the lore of art. These tuneful lips that thousand spoons have tried, 360 With just precision could the point decide. Though not in song the muse but poorly shines In cones, and cubes, and geometric lines; Yet the true form, as near as she can tell, Is that small section of a goose egg shell, Which in two equal portions shall divide The distance from the centre to the side. Fear not to slaver; 'tis no deadly sin:Like the free Frenchman, from your joyous chin Suspend the ready napkin; or like me, Poise with one hand your bowl upon your knee; 371 Just in the zenith your wise head project, Your full spoon, rising in a line direct, Bold as a bucket, heed no drops that fall, The wide-mouth'd bowl will surely catch them all! |