RANELAGH IN RAIN.

How sweet this road is, fringed by hedgerow elm,

Where peeps in May the hawthorn's snowy bud,

A fairy place that seems Titania's realm!

By Jove, what mud!

How sweet this turf, as soft as finest moss!

Such "gazon anglais" we alone can get.

Oh hang it, no! I cannot walk across,

It's soaking wet!