* * * * * THE PURSUIT OF BEAUTY I saw an aged, aged man One morning near the Row, Who sat, dejected and forlorn, Till it was time to go. It made me quite depressed and bad To see a man so wholly sad-- I went and told him so. I asked him why he sat and stared At all the passers-by, And why on ladies young and fair He turned his watery eye. He looked at me without a word, And then--it really was absurd-- The man began to cry. But when his rugged sobs were stayed-- It made my heart rejoice-- He said that of the young and fair He sought to make a choice. He was an artist, it appeared-- I might have guessed it by his beard, Or by his gurgling voice. His aim in life was to procure A model fit to paint As "Beauty on a Pedestal," Or "Figure of a Saint." But every woman seemed to be As crooked as a willow tree-- His metaphors were quaint. "And have you not observed," he asked, "That all the girls you meet Have either 'Hockey elbows' or Ungainly 'Cycling feet'? Their backs are bent, their faces red, From 'Cricket stoop,' or 'Football head.'" He spoke to me with heat. "But have you never found," I said, "Some girl without a fault? Are all the women in the world Misshapen, lame or halt?" He gazed at me with eyes aglow, And, though the tears had ceased to flow, His beard was fringed with salt. "There was a day, I mind it well, A lady passed me by In whose physique my searching glance No blemish could descry. I followed her at headlong pace, But when I saw her, face to face, _She had the 'Billiard eye'!_" * * * * * [Illustration: Di got me to play hockey. Never again!] * * * * * [Illustration: "Our great hockey match was in full swing, when a horrid cow, from the adjoining meadow, strolled on the ground. Play was by general consent postponed."] * * * * * MIXED HOCKEY You came down the field like a shaft from a bow The vision remains with me yet. I hastened to check you: the sequel you know: Alas! we unluckily met. You rushed at the ball, whirled your stick like a flail, And you hit with the vigour of two: A knight in his armour had surely turned pale, If he had played hockey with you. They gathered me up, and they took me to bed: They called for a doctor and lint: With ice in a bag they enveloped my head; My arm they enclosed in a splint. My ankles are swelled to a terrible size; My shins are a wonderful blue; I have lain here a cripple, unable to rise, Since the day I played hockey with you.