That has broken loose from tether;
Whilst many a hardy bosom quails
And many a swarthy visage pales
At the griffin clutch of those tender nails
As they come to the "scratch" together.
But well says a poet of rising fame,*
That to hint at an 'infantile frailty's' a shame
For the Baby-days have come round the same
To us all, and we can't but confess'em;
* F. Locker, Author of London Lyrics, &c.