E'en I, in a moment of madness, Had snatched at the fatal cup. And my rollers were on, but I sat all alone, For alas! I could not get up. And like those rinkers rolling Amongst their woodon piers, A flood of thoughts came o'er me That filled my eyes with tears. How often, oh, how often, In the days that had gone by, I had waltzed in that room at midnight, With a fixed and a vacant eye. How often, oh, how often, I had wished that a cab from afar, Would bear me away in its bosom To my rooms, and a mild cigar. For my limbs were hot and restless, And my boots a serious care, And the burden of mild flirtation, Seemed greater than I could bear. But now it is changed and vanished, It has fallen over the brink; Before, we were sad, but now we are mad, And the ball-room is turned to a rink. Yet whenever I watch these rinkers Amongst their wooden piers, Like the sound of April raindrops, Comes the thought of other years. And I think how many thousands Of skate-encumbered men, Each bearing his burden of ladies, Have rinked on this floor since then. I see the long procession, Still tottering to and fro, The young feet clumsy and rapid, The old feet clumsy and slow. And for ever, and for ever, As long as the raindrops fall, As long as we've angling ladies, (And angular too) at all, The Rink and its ceaseless rollers, And its broken limbs, shall appear As the symbol of Bedlam's madness And its accurate image here! KIT NUBBLES _The Figaro_, June 14, 1876. * * * * * THE WHITEFRIARGATE BRIDGE. I. I stood on the bridge at midnight, As "Travis" was striking the hour; And the moon rose o'er the city Aslant the Dock Co.'s tower. II. I stood and recalled how savage, In the day that's just gone by, I was stopped by that bridge at midday, And watched it raised on high. III. For my heart was hot and restless, My business full of care; And the check thus put upon me Seemed longer than I could bear. IV. And I thought how many thousands Of work-encumbered men, On hearing the bell a-ringing, Have cursed this bridge since then. V. I see the long procession Still pacing to and fro-- The master, the clerk, the workman; The Dockmen, officious and slow. VI. And forever, and forever, As long as the Company goes, As long as we brook the fashion Of transit, and bow to our woes. VII. So long we shall lose our appointments, So long by our spouses be told That we're ten minutes late as usual, And our dinner is getting cold. _The Whitefriargate Papers_, Hull, February 17, 1872. * * * * * SUNSET. (_An Imitation._)