Cash will publication follow,
And I’ve had too long a rest.”
Hies a reader on the morrow
Through the busy street called “Strand”;
Sees the notice—hastes to borrow
From a friend the verses grand.
Gets them—reads them; thinks he, “Surely,
Tennyson, not this your own?
‘Hands all Round’—’tis nonsense, purely,
Worthy Salisbury alone!”