For many, of his sins, should share the load:
While he kept rising, who asked how he rose?
While we could reap, what cared we how he sowed?
Punch. February 26, 1853.
——:o:——
Elegy.
Written near a Suburban Station House.
By a Ticket-of-Leave-Man.
The muffin-bell proclaims the parting day,
The City clerks wind, weary, to their tea,
The Crusher cookwards plods his steady way,