TO ABSENT FRIENDS
(By a Fox without a Tail.)
Dear Brown and Jones and Robinson and many thousands more,
Now spending dismal holidays on some dank sea-girt shore,
You, who affect to pity those compelled in town to stay,
Should rather envy us, because we cannot get away.
While you are hiring tiny rooms at many pounds a week,
And huddle there and watch parades that run with rain, and reek,
Contrast my cheerful aspect with your discontented looks,
As here I stay at ease among my pictures and my books.
Here in the trains the traveller can now find ample space,
Enjoying elbow-room without a struggle for a place:
The choicest dishes are not "off" at half-past one to lunch,
And no one spoils our appetite with—"After you with Punch!"
The dainty shops of Regent Street teem with their treasures still,
The Park with all its beauties we can now enjoy at will;
No longer do the jostling crowds provoke an angry frown,
But leisurely we relish the amenities of town.
Thus basking in the keen delights that empty London owns
(Though from my heart I pity you—Brown, Robinson and Jones),
So long as you may care to stay, and business is slack,
I cannot honestly declare I long to see you back.
