["A lock of ----'s hair, set in a small gold-rimmed case, and said to
be an ancient family possession, was knocked down for forty pounds."]
Take yonder lock of tangled hair,
A silver seamed with sable,
Dim harbinger from dreamland fair
Of reverie and fable;
Yes, grandson mine, the treasure take,
A trinket loved, if little,
And wear it, darling, for my sake,
In yonder locket brittle;
Small, as my banker's balance, small
And faint--a touching token;
My luck, the lock, the locket, all
Seem, child, a trifle broken.
Investments, boy, are looking glum;
They flit and fade; in fine a
Not inconsiderable sum
Has gone to--Argentina.
Nay, chide me not; one day, refilled
By these, may shine your pocket,
And Fortune's resurrection gild
The lock within the locket.
Because, you see, when strong and sage
You grow, and all the serried
Lights of the great Victorian age
With me are quenched and buried;
When other men in other days
Walk paramount--then shall you
Submit the thing to such as praise
The Past, its relics value.
The curl was worn, you'll tell your friends,
By TENNYSON or BROWNING
(The detail of the name depends
On who is worth renowning).
You'll vaunt that one who knew the grand
Victorian Stars, and rather
Deserved himself to join the band
(In fact your father's father),
Who, past expression, loved whate'er
The market cottons _then_ to,
Committed to your childish care
This genuine memento.
You'll catalogue it, as befalls
Your choice, my little gran'son;
You'll bear it to the deathless halls
Of CHRISTIE, WOODS, AND MANSON.
So, when the fateful hammer sounds,
And you have cashed in rhino
A cheque for, haply, forty pounds,
You'll bless your grandsire, I know;
Who, while his fortunes failed, and much
Was life's horizon o'ercast,
_Created_ souvenirs with such
A keen, commercial forecast.
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[Illustration: ALL-ROUND POLITICIANS--SIR WILLIAM VARIETY HARCOURT.]
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