On Friday—I am in the law—
But, ere I started with my mates
On Saturday, 'twas sure to thaw!
Now, too—the prospect seemed divine—
They skated yesterday, I knew,
And now, just as I'm going to dine,
The sun comes out, the skies grow blue,
Ere we at Wimbledon can meet,
Those horrid gaps!—that treacherous sludge!
I shall not get one skimmer fleet.