The burden of dull colours. Thou shalt see
Strange harmonies in brown and olive-green,
In curious costumes fashioned cunningly,
And all unlike the things in summer seen;
And thou shalt say of summer, it hath been.
Or if unconsciously thou wouldst inquire
What these my mournful music-measures mean,
I bid thee heap fresh coals upon the fire.
L’ENVOY.
Tourists and ye whom Cook accomp’nies,