When all men laugh—“the wild mob’s million feet”
Will kick thee to a place—the name’s not long—
It’s called by the polite—“Hong Kong!”
Moonshine, May 9, 1885.
——:o:——
“I am informed by a perfectly unreliable correspondent that the following poem—evidently composed by a dynamiter who reads his Times and his Tennyson attentively—was picked up in Mr. Swainson’s room at the Admiralty after the recent explosion.”
You—you—if you have failed to understand
The lesson taught by previous blow-ups,
Learn that on you the weight of Rossa’s hand—
When he’s not in his cups—