“IF kith and kin disowned you,
And all your friends were dead?”
—I’d buy a spotted handkerchief
To flaunt upon my head:
I’d resurrect my maddest clothes,
And gaily would I laugh,
And climb the proud hills scornfully
With swinging cherry staff.
“But when you’d crossed the sky-line,
And knew you were alone?”
—I’d cast away the hollow sham,
I’d kick the ground, and groan,
And tear my coloured handkerchief
And snap my staff; and then
I’d curse the God that built me up
To break me down again.
E. W. JACOT
(QUEEN’S)
HERE’S A DAFFODIL
HERE’S a daffodil
Nodding to the hill,
Tipsy in the sunlight
Drinking his fill.
Here’s a violet
Pearled in dew as yet,
Smiling in the wood shade,
Sweet coquette!
NURSERY RHYMES
I
QUEEN Anne is dead
’Tis often said,
For my part I agree.
But she lived full ten score years ago
And so
She ought to be.