A VISION OF BLIGHTY.
I do not ask, when back on Blighty's shore
My frozen frame in liberty shall rest,
For pleasure to beguile the hours in store
With long-drawn revel or with antique jest.
I do not ask to probe the tedious pomp
And tinsel splendour of the last Revue;
The Fox-trot's mysteries, the giddy Romp,
And all such folly I would fain eschew.
But, propt on cushions of my long desire,
Deep-buried in the vastest of armchairs,
Let me recline what time the roaring fire
Consumes itself and all my former cares.
I shall not think nor speak, nor laugh nor weep,
But simply sit and sleep and sleep and sleep.
"Wanted, Ladyhelp or General, for country, no bread or butter.—Apply 'Gay,' 'Dominion' Office."—The Dominion (Wellington, N.Z.).
We congratulate the advertiser on her cheery optimism.