AN EXTRACT (NOT) FROM TENNYSON'S "MAUD."
BIRDS in St. Stephen's garden,
Mocking birds, were bawling—
"Lord, Lord, Lord, John!"
They were crying and calling.
Where was John? In a fix!
Gone to Vienna, whither
They'd sent him out of the way,—
Tories and Whigs together.
Birds in St. Stephen's sang,
Chattering, chattering round him—
"John is here, here, here,
Back too soon, confound him!"
They saw his dirty hands!
Meekly he bore their punning;
John[13] is not seventy yet,
But he's very little and cunning.
He to show up himself!
How can he ever explain it?
John were certain of place,
If shuffling could retain it.
* * * *
Look, a cab at the door,
Dizzy has snarled for an hour;
Go back, my Lord, for you're a bore,
And at last you're out of power.
Our Miscellany.
(Which ought to have come out, but didn't).