The thought occurs to us in time,
“In politics dukes fling much mud!”
We watch the traffic raging round,
And filling every hole and nook,
Then say, “Of course this muddle’s found
To gratify his grace the duke.”
The grimy avenue we pace,
About the ugly sheds we pry;
“It’s hard,” we think, “to like the place,—
But then one lacks the ducal eye.”