And now December's here again I do not feel the loss,
Though all the summer I've not been four miles from Charing Cross.
'Twas pleasant in the office when we'd gather in a bunch,
A social, dreamy sort of day, with lots of time for lunch.
How commerce flagged September through, at 90, Pinching Lane,
Till bronzed and bluff the chief returned, and trade revived again.
Why talk of Andalusia's bulls, of Rocky-Mountain bears,
Of Tyrolean alpenstocks—though not of Alpen shares;
Of seaside haunts where fashion drives with coronetted panels,
Or briny nooks, when all you need is pipes, and books, and flannels.