Classic Poem

The masculine waiter in his suit of sable
Sets to his work like lightning. Damask white
Deftly he spreads upon the dark oak table;
Tall flasks, Venetian goblets chrysolite,
Pasties high-walled and cates unutterable,
Soon crown the lordly board, a jolly sight.
Says cheerful Betty, once nurse-maiden mine,
‘Sir, will you see your room before you dine?’