TO LUCENDA.
(Who had made "Copy" of Me.)
The bright September when we met
My prospects were not over healthy,
Though you were, I do not forget,
Extremely wealthy.
I know not why it chanced to be,
But this I recollect most clearly—
It never once occurred to me
To love you dearly.
'Twas not your fault, so do not vex
Yourself, for I admired your beauty,
Since admiration of your sex
Is Man's Whole Duty.
And thus it came to be our lot
To part without a sign or token;
I went upon my way, but not
The least heart-broken.
My "fatal pride" does not object
At your fair hands to be made verse on;
But p'raps next time you will select—
Some other person!
Unanswerable.—The Archbishop of Canterbury, speaking at Folkestone last week, said that "The Disestablishment Bill does not need any answering: it answers itself." An' it please your Grace, if it does "answer," and answers its purpose, what more can be required of this Bill or any other?
The New Weather Proverb.—It never rains—but it snows!
