I think there can be nothing much more fair
Than owning some large mansion in the shires,
And living almost permanently there,
In constant touch with animals and squires;
Yet there is joy in peering through the gates
Or squinting from the summit of a wall
At other people's beautiful estates,
Wondering what they have to pay in rates
And coveting it all.
Yes, it is sweet to circle with one's spouse
Some antique Court, constructed by QUEEN ANNE,
Complete with oaks and tennis-courts and cows,
And many a nice respectful serving-man,
With dogs and donkeys and perhaps a swan,
And lovely ladies having _such_ a time,
And garden-parties always going on,
And ruins where the guide-book says KING JOHN
Did nearly every crime.
Yes, it is sweet; but what I want to know
Is why one has to prowl about outside;
Surely the Earl of Bodleton and Bow,
Surely Sir Egbert and his lovely bride
Should wait all eager in the entrance-way
To ask us in and take us through the grounds,
And give one food and worry one to stay,
Instead of simply keeping one at bay
With six or seven hounds.
Surely they realise one wants to see
The mullioned windows in the South-West wing,
The private trout-stream and the banyan-tree,
The lilac bedroom where they lodged the King;
Surely they know how Bolshevist we feel
Outside, where shrubberies obstruct the view,
Particularly as they scarce conceal
The Earl and household at a hearty meal
Under the old, old yew.
I do not grudge the owner of The Chase;
I do not loathe the tenant of The Lea;
I only want to walk about his place
And just imagine it belongs to me;
That is the kind of democratic sport
For keeping crime and Bolshevism low;
I don't imagine that the fiercest sort
Feel quite so anarchist at Hampton Court,
Where anyone may go.
But I dare say that many a man must take
Long looks of wonderment at Number Nine,
Laburnum Avenue, and vainly ache
To go inside a dwelling so divine;
And if indeed some Marquis knocks one day
And says, "I'm tired of standing in the street;
I want to see your mansion, if I may,"
I shall receive him in the nicest way
And show him round my "seat."
A. P. HERBERT.
Oct. 15, 1919.
"_Nimphidia_"