I.
Ours is a faster, quicker age:
Yet erst at Goldsmith’s homely Wakefield Vicarage,
While Lady Blarney from the West End glozes
Mid the Primroses,
Fudge! cries Squire Thornhill,
Much to the wonder of young greenhorn Moses.
Such word of scorn ill
Matches the “Wisdom Fair” thy whim proposes
To hold on Cornhill.