Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, April 13, 1895
In Praise of Try Angle.
Ye countless stars, both great and small,
The poetic sky who spangle,
Not one of you, that I recall,
Has hymned the sweet triangle!
With lyre and lute too long, too much,
Ye've thrid love's mazy tangle,
Yet unresponsive to your touch
Have left the sweet triangle.
And so the Muse commissions me
A lay to newly fangle—
Various
---
"I'LL SING THEE SONGS OF ARABY!"
IN PRAISE OF THE TRIANGLE.
TO THE GRIFFIN.
HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF;
A STUDY IN "BIMETALLISM."
To Corinna, angry.
The Long and Short of It.
SATURDAY NIGHT IN THE EDGWARE ROAD.
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
A Quip.
THREE MODES OF SPENDING A BANK HOLIDAY.
GENTLE IRONY.
NOT DONE YET.
To Tara, My (Un-)Fair Neighbour.
"PRIDE AND PREJUDICE."
NOT DONE YET.
SO VERY CONSIDERATE.
CONCERNING A MISUSED TERM;
"HOW TO CONTROL AND RECTIFY PUBLIC OPINION."
MINOR POETRY IN THE SERE AND YELLOW LEAF.
The Jabez is Coming.
ANACREONTICS FOR ALL.
"TO PARIS AND BACK FOR NOTHING."
WHICH IS THE CORRECT CARD?
THE JOYS OF ANTICIPATION.
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
LITERARY "FOOD AND FEEDING."
