He grows like a bull of Bashan,
One day he'll be Bishop or Dean,
I startle his congregation:
One day I shall preach to the Q—n.
One day he'll be Bishop or Dean,
One of those science-haters;
One day I shall preach to the Q—n.
To think of my going in gaiters!
One of those science-haters,
Blind as a mole or bat;
To think of my going in gaiters,
And wearing a shovel hat!
Blind as a mole or bat,
No faintest glimmer of light,
And wearing a shovel hat,
Morning and noon and night.
"Love in Idleness."
PANTOUM.
(Song in the Malay manner.)
The wind brings up the hawthorn's breath.
The sweet airs ripple up the lake:
My soul, my soul is sick to death,
My heart, my heart is like to break.
The sweet airs ripple up the lake,
I hear the thin woods' fluttering:
My heart, my heart is like to break;
What part have I, alas! in spring?
I hear the thin woods' fluttering;
The brake is brimmed with linnet-song:
What part have I, alas! in spring?
For me, heart's winter is life-long.