THE DEVOTED LOVER.
["Loiterers will be treated as trespassers."—Notice on Tube Station.]
| No longer laud, my Jane, the ancient wooer Who for the favours of his ladye fayre Would sally forth to strafe the evil-doer Or beard the dragon in his inmost lair; Find it no more, dear heart, a ground for stray tiffs Because, forsooth, you can't detect in me A tendency to go out whopping caitiffs Daily from ten till three. He proved himself in his especial fashion, Daring the worst to earn a lover's boon, But I, no less than he a prey to passion, Faced risks as great this very afternoon, When at the Tube a long half-hour I waited (In fond obedience to your written beck) Where loiterers, it practically stated, Would get it in the neck. The liftmen who from time to time ascended To spill their loads (in which you had no part) Regarded me with eagle eyes intended To lay the touch of terror on my heart; But through a wait thus perilously dreary My spirits drooped not nor my courage flinched; "She cometh not," I merely sighed, "I'm weary And likely to be pinched." You came at last, long last, to end my fretting, And now you know how your devoted bard Faced for your sake the risk of fine or getting An unaccustomed dose of labour (hard); Harbour no more that idiotic notion That love to-day is unromantic, flat; Gave Lancelot such a proof of his devotion, Did Galahad do that? |
THE PRINCE COMES HOME.
PAMELA'S ALPHABET.
Scene.—A Domestic Interior.