'Twas handsome rosewood, and inlaid with brass,
And dreamt three times she garnished it with stocks
Of needles, silks, and cottons—but, alas!
She lost it wide awake. We thought Miss Cox
Was lucky—but she saw three caddies pass
To that small imp;—no living luck could loo him!
Sir Stamford would have lost his Raffles to him!
And so he climbed—and rode—and won—and walked,
The wondrous topic of the curious swarm
That haunted the Parade. Many were balked