Their new-fledged thoughts, like July birds,
Soared on the air and glanced away,
Before the eloquent voice could stay.
"'Tis very sad the man is mad,"
The men and women gaily said;
As they, laughing, thread their homeward road,
Talking of other holidays;
Of last year, how it rained or snowed;
Who went abroad, who wed a blaze
Of diamonds with his shoddy bride,