The Poets at Tea.
Tennyson, who took it hot.
I think that I am drawing to an end,
For on a sudden came a gasp for breath,
And stretching of the hands, and blinded eyes,
And a great darkness falling on my soul.
O Hallelujah!... Kindly pass the milk.
Swinburne, who let it get cold.
As the sin that was sweet in the sinning
Is foul in the ending thereof,