I pay two sous and take my chair Among the little girls and boys; The nurses turn their heads and stare, For puppet-shows are children’s joys. And yet, though Time has hit me hard, And life I’m given to revile, From every joy I’m not debarred, For Guignol still can make me smile. Dear Guignol of my golden youth! How oft in these Elysian fields I’ve listened to his words of truth, And watched the baton that he wields! And still in autumn’s pleasant glow A happy hour away I while, And with the babies “see the show,” For Guignol still can make me smile! The English Summer. On Monday the weather was fine and bright, Three fine days and a thunderstorm! On Tuesday the floods had reached their height, And a hurricane blew on Wednesday night, And the land was a swamp and a dismal sight-- Three fine days and a thunderstorm! On Thursday the dogs all panting lay, Three fine days and a thunderstorm! And sunstroke settled two boys at play. On Friday the winter had come to stay-- Three fine days and a thunderstorm! On Saturday snow was a good foot high, Three fine days and a thunderstorm! On Sunday there fell from the jet-black sky A deluge that covered the mountains high; And to-day in a tropical sun we fry-- Three fine days and a thunderstorm! A Perfect Paradise. (VIDE PELICAN. AFFIDAVITS.) The quiet of the woodland way Bird-broken is by night and day, But ne’er a song-bird trills its lay In Gerrard Street, Soho. No breeze here bears the babel roar-- Life’s ocean, tideless evermore, Lies dead upon the silent shore Of Gerrard Street, Soho. The hermit seeking holy calm May soothe his soul with Gilead balm Beneath the desert’s one green palm In Gerrard Street, Soho. But ’twas, oh, ’twas not always thus Men flying from life’s fume and fuss In urbe found a peaceful rus In Gerrard Street, Soho. There was a time when shout and shriek And song and oath and drunken freak Made matters lively all the week In Gerrard Street, Soho. Then, too, alas! the Sabbath eve Heard sounds to make the pious grieve, And quiet tenants thought they’d leave In Gerrard Street, Soho. When came the change from noise to peace, When did the clattering hansom cease, When rose the value of a lease In Gerrard Street, Soho? When came that sense of perfect rest Which makes the region doubly blest? ’Twas when, as members’ oaths attest, The Pelicans first built their nest In Gerrard Street, Soho! That Breeze.