And now through blazing frames, and fiery beams,
The Globe, the Sun, the Phœnix, and what not,
With gushing pipes throw up abundant streams,
On burning bricks, and twists, on rolls—too hot—
And scorching loaves,—as if there were no shorter
And cheaper way of making toast-and-water!
RONDEAU.
[EXTRACTED FROM A WELL-KNOWN ANNUAL.]
O CURIOUS reader, didst thou ne’er
Behold a worshipful Lord May’r
Seated in his great civic chair