For my friends I must buy,
And so send “silver pheasants and golden.”
I have tried ev’ry form for a hare,
Every patch, every furze that could shroud her,
With toil unrelax’d,
Till my patience is tax’d,
But I cannot be taxed for hare-powder.
I’ve been roaming for hours in three flats
In the hope of a snipe for a snap at;
But still vainly I court