TO MINKI-POO
(SHUTTING ONE EYE).
I watch you, while the firelight glare
Strews flick'ring fancies round the hall,
Replete, with what exotic fare
No watcher by The Wall
Had ever thought to line himself withal.
And, as I mark the locks that weave
A curtain for your eyes of flame,
I sometimes think if you'd a sleeve
To help you in the game,
You'd find a laugh or two to fill the same.
For She in whose grey eyes there springs
Ruth for the lowliest and the least
Proclaims you heir of countless kings,
An emblem from the East
Of inward beauty in the outward beast.
She says you miss the sidewise roll
Of palanquins in Something-Chang,
Or sigh for little bells that toll
Beside the Si-kiang,
And dream-dogs of your old Celestial gang.
For me, I think that tiny heart
Bears no such Oriental load;
Your dreams concern no Pekoe mart
Nor mandarin's abode,
But some dim purlieu of the Edgware Road.
Well, young pretender, have your fling!
Though Fate forbade you to adorn
The pompous pedigree of Ming,
No particle of scorn
Shall ever fall upon the Briton born!
"It was contended that the captain had been placed in circumstances of exceptional difficulty. The solicitor for the Board of Trade said that between six and seven hundred pilgrims from Mecca swarmed on to the ship at Beyrouth to return to Morocco."
Westminster Gazette.
Another result of the expiry of the Wagner copyrights?
"She went out rather quickly by the door, but none of them laughed."—From "The Cheerful Christian," by David Lyall, in "The British Weekly."
She must try the window next time, and then, if they still won't laugh, the chimney.
First Irate Gentleman. "When I 'its a man, 'e remembers it."
Second Irate Gentleman. "Well, when I 'its one, 'e don't."