_(By a late one.)_
Sublime young Sir, so nuttily complacent,
So airy-poised upon thy rubbered feet,
The cynosure, no doubt, of all adjacent
Regard along that hit of Regent Street,
My thanks. In rather less than half a twinkling
Thy lofty air and high Olympian gaze
Have taught me that of which I had no inkling
Throughout my swashing military days.
I too (_et ego in Arcadia vixi_)--
I too have strolled like that in London town,
Demanding homage from the very bricks I
Pressed with my shoes of scintillating brown;
But never till I tried the fair corrective
Of seeing khaki from a civvy suit
Could I envisage in its true perspective
That common circumstance, a Second-Loot.
* * * * *