An immaculate blanket, pristine, cold and bright,
Surrounded it thoughtlessly, airy and light,
The butterscotch blemish besmirching the white,
Lay aloof and alone, all but blind to its blight.
Cast away, strewn aside, sat the sad swarthy slight,
For the bear that had passed it had passed out of sight,
Like a whistling kettle, it steamed in the night,
Imposing its stink with profound, pungent might.