CONTENTS
| PAGE | |
| FOREWORD—THE WORLD WE LAUGH IN! | [xi] |
| RHYMES FOR THE TIMES | |
| 'WHAT'S IN A NAME?' | [1] |
| NOBODY'S DARLING! | [3] |
| ROSES ALL THE WAY | [6] |
| THE TRIUMPH OF JAM | [8] |
| EGREGIOUS EASTBOURNE | [10] |
| SARAH OWEN | [12] |
| THE LAST HORSED 'BUS | [15] |
| STAGE SUPPORT | [17] |
| SCRIBBLERS ALL! | [20] |
| THE LYONS CUBS | [22] |
| 'THE CRIES OF LONDON' | [25] |
| THE MODEL FARM | [27] |
| THE ADVENTURER | [29] |
| A PLEA FOR PONTO | [31] |
| THE 'WASTER' | [33] |
| THE CHOICE | [36] |
| ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF BOSTON SCHOOL | [38] |
| THE SPORTING SPIRIT | [40] |
| PERSPECTIVE | [43] |
| 'RAG-TIME' | [45] |
| 'THE PIPES' | [47] |
| MODERN DANCING | [49] |
| THE PUBLIC INTEREST | [52] |
| THE MILITANTS | [54] |
| PLAGUES AT THE PLAY | [57] |
| A SUGGESTION | [59] |
| THE MODEL MOTORIST | [61] |
| THE PARISH PUMP | [64] |
| POLICE COURT SENSE | [66] |
| CLUB CANTOS | |
| CANTO I. THE ATHENÆUM | [69] |
| CANTO II. WHITE'S | [72] |
| CANTO III. THE BACHELORS' | [74] |
| CANTO IV. THE GARRICK | [76] |
| CANTO V. THE AUTOMOBILE | [79] |
| CANTO VI. BROOKS'S | [81] |
| CANTO VII. 'THE BEEFSTEAK' | [84] |
| CANTO VIII. THE TRAVELLERS' | [87] |
| CANTO IX. 'THE BATH' | [90] |
| SONGS IN SEASON | |
| NEW YEAR'S EVE | [93] |
| FEBRUARY | [95] |
| SPRING | [97] |
| SPRING-CLEANING | [100] |
| 'ROYAL ASCOT' | [102] |
| 'ROSES' | [105] |
| THE END OF THE SEASON | [107] |
| THE COCKNEY OF THE NORTH | [109] |
| 'THE TWELFTH' | [111] |
| NOVEMBER | [113] |
| THE CYNIC'S CHRISTMAS | [115] |
| ENVOI | [119] |
FOREWORD
THE WORLD WE LAUGH IN!
['Sadness, once a favourite pose of poets, is no longer fashionable. Nowadays melancholy people are looked upon as depressing.'—The Gentlewoman.]
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Bygone bards in baleful ballads would betoken Worlds of wretchedness and globes compact of gloom; Pensive poets of the past have sung or spoken Of the misery of mortals' daily doom, Of the hearts that are as hard as something oaken, Of the blossoms that are blighted ere they bloom, Of the ease with which a lover's vows are broken, And the terrors of the tomb! Now no longer 'tis the minstrel's mawkish fashion To narrate a tale of melancholy woe, Of some wight whose face was haggard, wan, and ashen, And who languished in the days of long ago, Who adored, with pure but unrequited passion, And a heart that was as soft as any dough, A divine but unsusceptible Circassian Who continued to say 'No'! For to-day our lays are light, our sonnets sprightly, We adopt a tone inspiriting and blithe; We can treat the saddest subjects fairly brightly, And we never make our fellow-creatures writhe. We regard all signs of sorrow as unsightly And as dreary as the Esplanade at Hythe, And in seas of lyric joy we swim as lightly As a saith[1] else a lythe[2])! And a poet who the populace enrages By an out-of-date endeavour to combine The dispiriting solemnity of sages With the quill-work of the fretful porcupine, Is considered so unworthy of his wages That the public will not read a single line, And his gems will never sparkle in the pages Of a volume such as mine! |