From my windows a delicious sea-view,

Southdown mutton, somebody to cook,—

“Music?”—I believe you.

Strawberry icebergs in the summer time,—

But of elm-wood many a massive splinter,

Good ghost stories, and a classic rhyme,

For the nights of winter.

Now and then a friend and some Sauterne,

Now and then a haunch of Highland venison,

And for Lotos-land I’ll never yearn,