ON THE HURRY OF THIS TIME.

(To F. G.)

TH slower pen men used to write,

WITH

66

Of old, when letters" were " polite; "

In ANNA's, or in GEORGE'S days, They could afford to turn a phrase, Or trim a straggling theme aright.

They knew not steam; electric light
Not yet had dazed their calmer sight; -
They meted out both blame and praise
With slower pen.

Too swiftly now the Hours take flight!
What's read at morn is dead at night:

Scant space have we for Art's delays, Whose breathless thought so briefly stays, We may not work - ah! would we might!With slower pen.

"WHEN BURBADGE PLAYED."

(To L. B.)

WHEN Burbadge played, the stage was bare Of fount and temple, tower and stair; Two backswords eked a battle out; Two supers made a rabble rout;

The Throne of Denmark was a chair!

And yet, no less, the audience there
Thrilled through all changes of Despair,
Hope, Anger, Fear, Delight, and Doubt
When Burbadge played !

This is the Actor's gift; to share
All moods, all passions, nor to care
One whit for scene, so he without
Can lead men's minds the roundabout,
Stirred as of old those hearers were

When Burbadge played!

A GREETING.

(To W. C.)

BUT once or twice we met, touched hands.
To-day between us both expands

A waste of tumbling-waters wide, -
A waste by me as yet untried,
Vague with the doubt of unknown lands.

Time like a despot speeds his sands:

A year he blots, a day he brands ;

We walked, we talked by Thamis' side
But once or twice.

What makes a friend? What filmy strands

Are these that turn to iron bands?

What knot is this so firmly tied

That naught but Fate can now divide? – Ah, these are things one understands

But once or twice!

AFTER WATTEAU.

(To F. W.)

“EMBARQUONS-NOUS!" I seem to go Against my will. 'Neath alleys low

I bend, and hear across the air

Across the stream - faint music rare, Whose cornemuse," whose "chalumeau "?

Hark! was not that a laugh I know?
Who was it, hurrying, turned to show
The galley swinging by the stair?
“Embarquons-nous !"

The silk sail flaps, light breezes blow;
Frail laces flutter, satins flow;

You, with the love-knot in your hair,
"Allons, embarquons pour Cythère";
You will not? Press her, then, Pierrot, —

"Embarquons-nous ! "

66

IN

TO ETHEL.

(Who wishes she had lived

"In teacup-times of hood and hoop,
Or while the patch was worn.")

N teacup-times!" The style of dress
Would suit your beauty, I confess;
BELINDA-like, the patch you 'd wear;
I picture you with powdered hair,
You'd make a charming Shepherdess!

could well express

SIR PLUME'S Complete conceitedness, Could poise a clouded cane with care "In teacup-times!"

The parts would fit precisely-yes:
We should achieve a huge success!
You should disdain, and I despair,
With quite the true Augustan air;
But... could I love you more, or less,
"In teacup-times"?