Cook (to Vicar's Wife). "And what's to be done with the Sole that was saved yesterday, Ma'am?"
BALLADE OF LOST REPARTEES.
When mirthful humours reign supreme,
And heated revellers are prone
To make sound wisdom kick the beam,
While vain wine-bubble wit alone
Has weight, we, mostly, can depone
To feeling joy to blankness fade
On finding, now our chance has flown,