CASE-O'-MY-BANKER.
(The Story of Another Child.)
The Boy stood in the sweltering street,
Whence all but he had fled;
The fast-departing dog-days' heat,
Flamed full upon his head.
He was not beautiful nor bright,
Nor born to rule the storm;
A most unlucky urban wight;
A small, yet grimy, form.
His parents could not grant the boon
—A fortnight's Country air;
They would have spared him precious soon,
But had no cash to spare!
He called aloud: "Kind Public, say,
If me you have forgot!"
But far from Town the Public play
Unconscious of his lot.
"Speak, millionnaires," again he cried,
"If I may not levant!"
And but the falling leaves replied,
And daylight growing scant.
Upon his brow he felt the breath
Of summer slowly fail,
And looked and prayed for kindly aid,
As seaman for a sail.
Meanwhile the Children's Country Fund,
Formed near the roaring Strand,
(At Buck'n'ham Street, the Number Ten,)
Had no more cash in hand!
He murmured faintly once again,
"Kind Public, must I stay?"
While to the seaside cab and train
Bore happier lads away.
Ah, Public! You this Summer's heat
Have felt at Pleasure's marts;
Think how you'd like it in the street,
Before it quite departs!