Withered leaf and broken fern.
But for Ch—ch—ll we must find
Blossoms of a gaudier kind:
Stitch the garland through and through
With flimsy threads of every hue;
And as Goddess—entre nous—
His lordship loves (though least of men)
The grandiose—like poor old Ben—
Twine amid his close-cropped locks
Artificial Hollyhocks!