In the undiscovered cotton-nightcap country
From which no passenger ever took a return-ticket——
Why—ah, yes—humph!—exactly—very much so!
Who, but for what the vulgar call “blue funk,”
Would bear the rough and tumble of the world,
Be down’d on by the rich, plagued by the poor,
Married by widows, and by orphans worried?
Who’d bear
April’s east wind or June’s perpetual rain,
The Income-tax, Lord Randolph Churchill’s questions,