THE LAUREATE'S LATEST.
The "town" ran off to the Globe one night,
For a play was played then from the Laureate's pen;
But they soon said, "How dare he?" and kicked up a "row,"
And pooh-poohed the drama—and serve it right,
For that it deserved it I think you'll allow.
Yea, they jeered at "The Promise of May,"—of May—
Annoyed at "The Promise of May."
But stay; we'd better, maybe, leave that song,