George (about to enjoy the first new-laid Egg from the recently set-up Fowl-house). "WHY—CONF—THEY'VE BOILED THE PORCELAIN NEST-EGG!"
A SONNET OF VAIN DESIRE.
AFTER THE HOLIDAYS.
As when th' industrious windmill vainly yearns
To pause, and scratch its swallow-haunted head,
Yet at the wind's relentless urging turns
Its flying arms in wild appeal outspread;
So am I vex'd by vain desire, that burns
These barren places whence the hair hath fled,