ODE TO A DINNER-GONG
"The tocsin of the soul—the dinner-bell."
So said, admiringly, the late Lord Byron,
But he had never heard your noisy knell,
O blatant bellowing thing of brass or iron,
Or surely he had metrically cursed
Your nerve-distracting Corybantic clangour.
Would his fine indignation could have versed
My utter hate, my agonising anger.
Alas! is gusto then so great a sin,