Lest you should use a hatpin in the clinches
While I was all unarmed.
So in a more or less intact condition
You made your exit through the trellised gate,
And (this, I must admit, is mere suspicion)
Asked of a porter was your hat on straight;
And lo! the bard, left dreaming suo more,
Mused upon things the future hid from view;
He looked adown the years and saw the glory
England would win through you.