He entered the lectern arrayed in my first.
His brother, Sir Arthur, a careless M. P.,
Was a man about town full of frolic and glee.
His creed was my second—good Hildebrand’s homilies,
He thought dry and dusty, and full of anomalies;
Well loved he clear music of foxhound and horn
When the Autumn sun rose on brown uplands of Quorn.
He never drank wine of inferior quality,
And he lived in my whole with a great deal of jollity.
Mortimer Collins.