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THE DRAMA OF THE DOCTOR'S WINDOW.
IN THREE ACTS, WITH A PROLOGUE.
"A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus,
WELL, I must wait!" The Doctor's room,
Wore the severe official gloom
Attached to that profession;
And skinless Gladiator,
No one would call "The Lancet" gay,-
That Jones, "On Muscular Decay,"
So, leaving both, to change the scene,
Below, the Doctor's garden lay,
May dignify a square of clay
Filled with a dismal-looking swing-
No sparrow chirped, no daisy sprung,
The vagrant cat that scanned it,
A dreary spot! And yet, I own,
Half hoping that, perchance, it Might, in some unknown way, atone For Jones and for "The Lancet,"
I watched; and by especial grace,
Ah, World of ours, are you so gray
For lo! the same old myths that made
Still "hold the boards," and still are played, "With new effects and dresses."
Small, lonely" three-pair-backs" behold,
To-day, in farthest Polar cold,
Ulysses' bones are lying;
Still in one's morning "Times" one reads
Still clubs discuss Achilles' steeds,
Still Menelaus brings, we see,
His oft-remanded case on ; Still somewhere sad Hypsipyle Bewails a faithless Jason;