1867-1868.
I sat in a 'bus in the wet,
"Good Words" I had happened to get,
With Tennyson's last bestowing;
And I said, "O bard! who works so hard,
Have ye aught that is worth the knowing?"
Verses enough and so boring,
Twaddle quite overflowing,
Rubbish enough for deploring;
But aught that is worth the knowing?