'Pluto, that dog confound!' a donkey brayed,
by Richard Crawley
He's got the manger that for me was made.
I cannot lift my nose to smell the feast,
All for that snarling and unwholesome beast.
As in the ancient fable of the sage,
So youth impatient carps at snarling age :
So sullen sixty stands in twenty's way,—
We have the appetite and they the hay.