Hyde Park. Mid-day.]
Reach it, attendant; wicked winter flies off:
Place it with pomp for me to sit and stare
Up at the sun who banquets us with cries of
"Chair!"
Long have we pined in darkness most uncanny:
Now to Hyde Park return its gauze of gold,
Jewels of crocus and enhancements mani-
-fold.
Welcome, delicious zephyr, blithe new-comer,
Urging to purchase patent-leather boots,
Hats of a virgin glossiness, and summer
suits.
Welcome, attire of carnival-carousers,
Suddenly bursting on the 'wildered view.
Mine--I don't mind confessing it--are trousers
new,
These that, serene in atmosphere serenest,
Droop o'er a Chair, whose emerald taunts the trees--
Green are the leaves, and greener than the greenest
Peas!
All things must end: to-morrow may be icy:
Wither too soon the joys that freshest are;
End will sweet summer reveries, and my ci-
gar.
Ends too that master-piece of Messrs. HYAM
Bashfully hinted at in line sixteen;
Green was the Chair I sat on--and now _I_ am
green!
* * * * *
"ALL'S (FAIRLY) WELL."
SCENE--_The War Office. Sanctum of the COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.
H.R.H. is seated on a chair. To him enter (after being
properly complimented by a couple of Grenadiers on guard
over an area) INSPECTOR-GENERAL OF EVERYTHING, Field-Marshal
PUNCH._
_Inspector-General_ (_sharply_).
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