Once on a time, ere leagues for woman's freedom
Had shed upon the world their golden gleam,
Ere dames had stormed the fortress of M.P.dom,
The mere man reigned supreme.
No female dared to challenge that position;
She only lived to grovel at his throne,
Content if she obtained his kind permission
To call her soul her own.
Then, lovers' vows were food for maids' digestion;
Then, swains received their meed of fond support,
Or read in azure eyes the plaintive question,--
Why come you not to court?
That was indeed a great and glorious era;
But now we mourn for moments that are not,
Since modern damsels bluntly state that we're a
Sad and sorry lot.
Lovers, whose wounds still crave the same old healing,
Find when they come to throw the handkerchief
An absolutely callous lack of feeling
Almost beyond belief.
I love my country; I would gladly serve her;
But, since her daughters have no eyes to see
A matrimonial prize, I say with fervour,
"This is no place for me!"
Fixed is my resolution to escape hence;
I used to think my skin was fairly tough,
But kicks have been more plentiful than ha'pence;
It isn't good enough!
England, farewell, a long farewell; for why let
The heart remain a slave for chits to tease,
When there is many a comfy little islet
Set in the Southern seas.
Thither I'll go, a lorn and lonely wight who,
Grown tired of wooing Phyllises, may rest
Content to know some coloured beads would buy two,
_Two_ of the very best!
HARTLEY CARRICK.
Jan. 26, 1910.