Better to be a diplomatic star
Than a poetic shade. Beloved France,
To ape thy jeunesse dorée will not jar
Upon my spirit, which is all romance:
I love the blend of the sublime and finical,
Of chivalry, choice cookery, and the cynical.
Chamberlain—did I dub him once a scold,
A leaner, later Casca? I was wrong—
Is off to Canada, and Balbo bold
(I called him bilious once, but 'twas in song)