And bursts her bonds and blazes in her glory.
No, Sir, I shall not write a single line,
Not though the Tories storm with angry lips which
Salute the serried ranks of the combine
With shouts of "'journ, 'journ, 'journ" or howls for Ipswich.
These do not stir me, and I see, unheeding,
The Home Rule Bill receive its hundredth reading.
As for my dogs, at any other time—
One is a massive hound and three are particles—
They might provoke a stave or two of rhyme,