First Stanza: As the Ancient Mariner began his marvellous tale, “There was a ship,” so Susannah begins, “There was a cat”—boldly, ruggedly, a leap in mÉdias res. The first stanza is a condensed and yet accurate analysis of Dolores, ending with a striking bit of realism.

Second Stanza: A wild burst of grief subsiding sadly into tender reminiscence. Note how the proportions of black and yellow on the tail of Dolores are delicately discriminated, the “black” being, in point of fact, predominant.

Third Stanza: We are introduced to Georgiana. Here arises a difficulty. What was there in the condition of being “a hen” to warrant the exclamation, “Oh, Shame!” Surely none! I interpret the passage thus: the exclamation “Oh, Shame!” is simply the poetess' passion bursting through, as it were, the reserve of the narrative, and in this way it prophetically forecasts the fatal issue. It is not, I think, a reflection or invective against hens, as such.

Fourth Stanza: Observe how just and truthful are the details, how Georgiana's right to a certain pride of manner, which indeed was hers, is critically based upon the brightness of her eyes, upon the approximate completeness of her toes. And yet it is honourably admitted that there was a deficiency of tail feathers.

Fifth Stanza: As the ballads of folklore are ever distinguished by a certain abruptness of climax, so here Susannah. Note the present tense, used only in this stanza. In the last line, how remarkable in effect is the passionate interjection which follows the simple statement of Georgiana's catastrophe!

Sixth Stanza: Last line, “slithered”—a difficult word, and yet effective! The whole line is masterly.

Seventh Stanza: The last line is clearly a Shelleyan reminiscence, a trace of my readings aloud of that poet. And yet, if Susannah had plagiarised, it was at least, boldly, frankly.

Eighth and Last Stanza: Note the contrast between the defiant and denunciatory address to the “whales and sharks,” and the pleading gentleness of that petition to the “little fish,” that they receive with comfort and affection those sad and houseless visitants, who had perished not ignobly, not unworthily.

A poem composed by Sadler on the foregoing events:

“The climates got out on a spree,

A heaven-and-hell carouse,

And Satan built along the sea

The pillars of his house;

And 'mong them all they drowned one hen,

One played-out, seedy cat,

And then slid off to sea again,

And let it go at that,

Leaving some waves to sob and worry,

Leaving Susannah crying.—

Oh, Lord, this world is sound and fury,

And nothing signifying.

But come a time when heaven and hell

Has settled their arrears,—

'Bout twilight of the judgment day,

When all the books are put away,

And all the little souls gone home

Each to its place in kingdom come—

The Lord and me, we'll set and—well,

We'll set around and talk a spell

About some woman's tears.”