What is the thing I fear, and why? Nay, but the world is all awry-- The wind’s in the east, the sun’s in the sky The gas-lamps gleam in a golden line; The ruby lights of the hansoms shine, Glance, and flicker like fire-flies bright; The wind has fallen with the night, And once again the town seems fair Thwart the mist that hangs i’ the air. And o’er, at last, my spirit steals A weary peace; peace that conceals Within its inner depths the grain Of hopes that yet shall flower again. _Ballade of an Omnibus._ To see my love suffices me. --_Ballades in Blue China._ Some men to carriages aspire; On some the costly hansoms wait; Some seek a fly, on job or hire; Some mount the trotting steed, elate. I envy not the rich and great, A wandering minstrel, poor and free, I am contented with my fate-- An omnibus suffices me. In winter days of rain and mire I find within a corner strait; The ’busmen know me and my lyre From Brompton to the Bull-and-Gate. When summer comes, I mount in state The topmost summit, whence I see Crœsus look up, compassionate-- An omnibus suffices me. I mark, untroubled by desire, Lucullus’ phaeton and its freight. The scene whereof I cannot tire, The human tale of love and hate, The city pageant, early and late Unfolds itself, rolls by, to be A pleasure deep and delicate. An omnibus suffices me. Princess, your splendour you require, I, my simplicity; agree Neither to rate lower nor higher. An omnibus suffices me. _Ballade of a Special Edition._ [Illustration: text decoration] He comes; I hear him up the street-- Bird of ill omen, flapping wide The pinion of a printed sheet, His hoarse note scares the eventide. Of slaughter, theft, and suicide He is the herald and the friend; Now he vociferates with pride-- A double murder in Mile End! A hanging to his soul is sweet; His gloating fancy’s fain to bide Where human-freighted vessels meet, And misdirected trains collide. With Shocking Accidents supplied, He tramps the town from end to end. How often have we heard it cried-- A double murder in Mile End. War loves he; victory or defeat, So there be loss on either side. His tale of horrors incomplete, Imagination’s aid is tried. Since no distinguished man has died, And since the Fates, relenting, send No great catastrophe, he’s spied This double murder in Mile End. Fiend, get thee gone! no more repeat Those sounds which do mine ears offend. It is apocryphal, you cheat, Your double murder in Mile End. _Straw in the Street._ [Illustration: text decoration]