My pipe emits for me its charms, that yield
Pictures and items of a children’s day.
Lest conscience smite I sit me down to say
My mites shall send some City mites afield.
59
He said “you Cretan,” when one lied,
He said “don’t canter,” when one hied,
His glass held nectar at his side,
He can recant what he denied.
60
Mr Snip, the agnostic, was coasting a hill,
With a bag of new coatings for stock;
When a runaway motor-car gave him a spill
Which scattered his doubts with the shock.
61
Pales her fair cheek, and back o’er all
The lapse of years leaps memory.
Those wedding peals to her recall
The pleas he urged so tenderly.