People dear, is it but three years
Since he went to join the Peers?
Once he sat where I would be,
Where still meets the august confraternity
Of the Commons in conclave free;
But his dreams were ever of gilded halls,
And he sighed for a crown with eight golden balls,
Though his race mostly hang o’er their doors but three.
Vritra.
(Miss M. C. Kilburn.)