There is the gate, where you fumbled sadly
Turning the key—though I lent my aid—
There are the paths, where we strolled in sunshine,
There is our seat in the chestnut shade.
Borders all empty, and paths uncared for,
Bleak, bare branches, and murky sky—
This is the "garden I love" no longer,
How it has changed since last July!
All that we spoke of, or left unspoken,
All that our tongues or our eyes could say
Comes to me now, as the Square I circle,
Clear as events but of yesterday.
Vain to remember, to care still vainer,
You have been married a month, and I—
I'm a misogynist—just at present,
How we have changed since last July!
"FULL SPEED AHEAD!"
Britannia (to Lord Spencer).
| To "hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn," My Spencer, in this clear determined manner, | Is spirit-gladdening; showing you were born To back my power and upbear my banner! |