Standing awhile at the corner crossing,
Watching a van as it lumbers past,
Something impels me to turn and saunter
Down to the Square, where I met you last.
Down to the Square with its formal garden
Slowly I pace--yet I scarce know why;
Somehow I never have since been near it,
Things have all changed since last July!
There is the gate, where you fumbled sadly
Turning the key--though I lent my aid--
There are the paths, where we strolled in sunshine,
There is our seat in the chestnut shade.
Borders all empty, and paths uncared for,
Bleak, bare branches, and murky sky--
This is the "garden I love" no longer,
How it has changed since last July!
All that we spoke of, or left unspoken,
All that our tongues or our eyes could say
Comes to me now, as the Square I circle,
Clear as events but of yesterday.
Vain to remember, to care still vainer,
You have been married a month, and I--
I'm a misogynist--just at present,
How we have changed since last July!
* * * * *
[Illustration: "FULL SPEED AHEAD!"
_Britannia_ (_to Lord Spencer_).
TO "HEAR OLD TRITON BLOW HIS WREATHÈD HORN,"
MY SPENCER, IN _THIS_ CLEAR DETERMINED MANNER,
IS SPIRIT-GLADDENING; SHOWING YOU WERE BORN
TO BACK MY POWER AND UPBEAR MY BANNER!
]
* * * * *
"FULL SPEED AHEAD!"
["The essential thing is that the party now in office has loyally
followed the example of the party in opposition, and, 'neglecting
party considerations, and provincial interests, has,' as the Civil
Lord claimed for it, 'risen to the full height of its Imperial
responsibilities.'"--_The "Times" on the Navy Estimates._]
_Britannia_ (_cheerily_). To "hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn,"
My SPENCER, in _this_ clear determined manner,
Is spirit-gladdening; showing you were born
To back my power and upbear my banner!
_Triton-Spencer._ You do me proud, Ma'am!
_Rootle-tootle-too!_
Foghorns not in it, eh? As for those sirens!--
Aha! Ulysses made a great to-do,
But by the blue brine that your coast environs
_Our_ marine music beats'em out of sight!
_Britannia._ Especially now you blare so well together
You rival conch-performers. Ah! that's right.
_Now_ I'm prepared for any sort of weather!
_Triton-Spencer sings_:--
BRITANNIA'S Sea-Lady-in-Chief,
_Rootle-toot!_
And I'm her First Lord, and a ripper.
Our chumminess passes belief,
_Rootle-toot!_
Lor! When she appointed me skipper
Some fancied I'd dawdle--at least, so they said--
Now they see that my motto is--Full Speed Ahead!
GEORGIE HAMILTON there with his glass,
_Rootle-toot!_
Would spy out the flaws if there were any:
EDDARD REED wouldn't let blunders pass,
_Rootle-toot!_
They're critical coves, and won't spare any.
But bless'em, their scrutiny _I_ do not dread.
My motto, you see, Ma'am, is--Full Speed Ahead!
Of course, that won't do in a fog,
_Rootle-toot!_
But I think there's a clear course afore us!
Give way to old-fashioned jig-jog?
_Rootle-toot!_
Nay, not by the mothers who bore us!
With a sharpish look-out, but without stint or dread,
We blow up our horn, Ma'am, for--Full Speed Ahead!
Old Nep may regard us with glee,
_Rootle-toot!_
Amphitrite may shout an "Ahoy," Ma'am.
If you're still on for Killing the Sea,--
_Rootle-toot!_
To back you in that I'm the bhoy, Ma'am.
By my heart ('tis true blue), by my beard (it is red),
My motto, BRITANNIA, is--Full Speed Ahead!
_Britannia._ Bravo, my ruddy-bearded, brave old Triton!
Nep shouts approval from his deep-sea grotto.
Friends need not fear for me, foes shall not frighten,
While you, and all my sons, stick to that motto!
* * * * *
A PARLIAMENTARY PARADOX.--Sir ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT
(_alias_ "SILOMIO") begs the Government to suppress the Boers.
* * * * *
CONVALESCENT.--After "a bout" of influenza, the best thing for
the patient is to be "about again."
* * * * *
[Illustration: A FIN-DE-SIÈCLISM!