He never screamed his hostess down,
Or raised a threatening arm,
When dining with his friends in town:
They marvelled at his charm.
When chatting with another guest
A pleasant word he’d pass,
Instead of growling, “Perfect pest!”
Or, “You’re a silly ass!”
If in the tango’s mazy whirl
A vagrant flounce he tore,
He suavely smiled, “My fault, dear girl,”
And never, “What a bore!”
When at the club the waiter gave
Him change for half-a-crown,
He did not dance, or rant, or rave,
And rarely knocked him down.
His life was calm and halcyon,
His manners so exact,
His friends proclaimed, “Dear Algernon
Has got such perfect tact.”
THE JOYOUS COMRADE
To J. K. P.
THE Joyous Comrade comes, and lo,
The silence thrills to a hidden song.
How changed the world from an hour ago!
In spite of man’s hate and the high gods’ wrong,
There has come a beautiful hour to me
With my belle dame avec merci.
Ah, she is gallant, debonnaire!
Some bold man spirit of her line
Charged at Edgehill, one may aver,
With dashing Rupert of the Rhine—
And the King still has his own, sans fear,
When smiles my Joyous Cavalier.
In hose of green and doublet brown
Through Arden’s forest she has strayed
(Arden that’s nigh to Stratford town)
In dainty, straight-limbed masquerade.
And still her fearless walk betrays
A Rosalind in city ways.
To-night we shall essay the Town
Whence Strand leads out from narrow Fleet.
Thence Westward, while dim stars look down,
We’ll quest Romance by square and street.
For, oh, Romance is never dead
By paths which joyous comrades tread.