'Mid the bird-chorus of the May,
From glade and garden madly ringing,
There sounds one welcome note to-day,
Round the glad world its way 'tis winging.
You hear--you hear the general cheer
That greets it! 'Twill suffice to show you
That all who love you joy to hear.
And all who love are all who know you!
Soft music of the marriage-bell
Seems woven 'midst the world's Spring Voices.
In truth, there's little need to tell
How in the prospect _Punch_ rejoices.
His well-pleased eye has watched your way;
His loyal heart has shared your sadness;
Now on this bright Betrothal-Day
Your gladness he acclaims--with gladness!
* * * * *
How is Mr. F. LUKE FILDES, R.A.?--In excellent health we sincerely
hope, but from seeing daily, in the front sheet of the _Times_, an
advertisement commencing "The Doctor after LUKE FILDES, R.A." Many
friends began to feel anxious. We are glad to be able to add, that, in
answer to the numerous inquiries made at 39, Old Bond Street, a most
satisfactory report has been obtained.
[Illustration: "HONOURS EASY."
_First Undergraduate._ "I SAY, OLD MAN, DID YOU WIN YOUR MONEY?"
_Second Un._ "'COURSE NOT; WON SOMEBODY ELSE'S. _YOU_ LOST _YOUR_
COIN, DIDN'T YOU?"
_First Un._ "MY COIN! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I LOST THE
GUV'NOR'S!"]
* * * * *
MUSE v. MECHANIC.
["Mr. NORMAN GALE--the Muse of orchards and pretty girls with polished
knees; a charm often left unsung."--_Mr. Andrew Lang on the Poems of
"A Country Muse."_]
"A Country Muse" sings, if you please,
Of pretty girls "with polished knees"!
One would not quite demolish
The graphic rhymester's stock-in-trade,
But if bare knees must be displayed,
He _might_ forego the polish.
It smacks of fustian! Workmen's "bags"
Are very "polished" where the "sags"
From salient joints protuberant,
Grow shiny with continual friction;
But "polished knees" in poet's diction
Strike one as too exuberant.
Say varnished elbows, burnished knuckles,
And you'll elicit scornful chuckles
From Muse and from Mechanic!
Selections from the terms of trade
Would put, I'm very much afraid,
Parnassus in a panic.
The bards are sometimes rather free
With feminine anatomy;
Their catalogues erotic
Of pretty girls' peculiar "points,"
Their eyes and limbs, and curves and joints,
Are often idiotic.
But if we must be told, sometimes,
Ladies have limbs, then that your rhymes
May not offend or fog any,
Don't _mechanise_ a maiden's charms;
Leave "polishing" to legs and arms
Of walnut or mahogany.
* * * * *