TWO NIGHTMARES.
[Dreamed after reading in a daily paper that "any style of dress that lessens one's self-confidence should be tabooed" (sic).]
I travelled from the Sussex hills
With confidence divine,
Full of the conscious power that thrills
My heart when life is mine,
And strode to Lady Fancy Frills
With whom I was to dine.
Her guests had come from Clubs and Courts
And Halls of wealthy Jews;
As they surveyed my running shorts
I felt my courage ooze,
While conscious power, grown out of sorts,
Leaked through my canvas shoes.
Then I re-travelled South by West
Inflated with a joy
Which in the suit I called my best
No buffet could destroy;
I may remark I'd come full-dressed
From lunch at the Savoy.
But when the hills began to shout
I coloured to the roots,
And when the valleys cried, "Get out!"
To the last word in suits,
My joy, displaced by sudden doubt,
Leaked through my spatted boots.
Of the mysterious Marconigrams:—
"They may be the effort of sentiment beings in some neighbouring planet to communicate with us."—Evening Paper.
Can we have broken in on a conversation between Venus and Mars?
