[Illustration]
Seated one day in my study
I was listless and ill at ease,
And my fingers twiddled idly
With the novel upon my knees.
I know not where I was straying
On the poppy-clustered shore,
But I suddenly struck on a Sparkler
Which fairly made me roar.
I have joked _some_ jokes in my time, Sir,
But this was a Champion Joke,
And it fairly cut all record
As a humoristic stroke.
It was good for a dozen of dinners,
It was fit to crown my fame
As a shaper of sheer Side-splitters,
For which I have such a name.
It flooded my spirit's twilight
Like the dawn on a dim dark lake,
For I knew that against all rivals
It would fairly "take the cake."
I said I will try it to-morrow,--
I won't even tell my wife,--
It will certainly fetch Lord FUMFUDGE,
And then--I am made for life!
It links two most distant meanings
Into one perfect chime--
* * * * *
Here my servant broke the silence,
And said it was dinner-time!
* * * * *
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That great Lost Joke of mine,
Which had slipped from my mind entirely
When I sat me down to dine.
It may be that something some day
May bring it me back again;
But I only wish--confound it!--
I had fixed it with pencil or pen.
It may be that luck--bright Angel!--
May inspire me once more with that stroke,
But I fear me 'tis only in Limbo
I shall light on my great Lost Joke!
* * * * *
MRS. R., who has been busy with her juniors, tells us that she has
been horrified to learn from her Nephew, who has been fighting the
Slave-hunters on the Congo, that in that country they "preserve" the
bodies of their enemies. He writes to her--"I have 'potted' several
Arabs."
* * * * *
[Illustration: "AU REVOIR!"