A long parody, entitled The Cloudy, appeared in the Christmas number of The World, 1885, but it would be utterly unintelligible without long extracts from the prose, and very prosy context.
The Cloud.
(Another Version of Shelley’s partial view of the Subject.)
I bring cats and dogs, and November fogs,
For the folks of Cockney land;
And I brew the flood of slush and mud
In Fleet Street and the Strand.
From my watery bed spring colds in the head,
And highly inflamed sore-throats;