Such a scene as this is Every girl’s delight is; But my throat’s _so_ raspy, And _that_ means bronchitis: One would rather die Than not be presented; But in a North-Easter? KINGSLEY was demented! Yes, the luscious South-wind Which the goose decries, Less afflicts our bosoms, Better suits our eyes. Why belaud and soften With his tricky pen What, alas! too often Women slays――and men? Says the soft South-Wester Is the Ladies’ breeze! Be it so, and let us Have it, if you please! But the black North-Easter Through May’s mid-day hurled, Drives poor English girls by scores Death ward from “the world.” Drawing-rooms are _lovely_, But diaphanous dress In a May North-Easter Means――eugh! I can guess By this inward quivering, By this bosom chill: E’en Mamma is shivering, Spite of her strong will. Oh! cannot our mothers (From the dear Queen down) Some less killing fashion Set the foolish Town? _Mode_ rules strong within us, But――we’re flesh and blood, Frozen by what KINGSLEY Calls “the wind of God.” _Punch_, May 30, 1885. ―――― ODE TO AN ENGLISH EASTER. (_After a Muscular Poet_). Welcome English Easter, Cowards should we be, Loving our vacations Not to sing to thee; Welcome English Easter When we long to roam, O’er the heights of Dover, Far away from home. Tired we are of working, Sick and ill with care. Weary of Reformers, House of Commons air! Sweep the busy city Of the dust of years. Prime with pluck and muscle All our volunteers. Shriek, ye snorting engines, With your loads in tow, Worried station-masters Give the word to go! Shriek, ye puffing engines, For we want to see Paris Exhibition Now that we are free. Let the lazy summer Tempt us by and by With its cosy pic-nics, Ice, and pigeon-pie. Lengthy expeditions, Put them off till then, ’Tis this doubtful weather Pleases Englishmen! What’s the sunny summer! ’Tis the ladies’ hour, Bringing lawns and crôquet, Tea and toast in power; But an English Easter Often takes us in, And ’midst our enjoyment Soaks us to the skin. Welcome English Easter, We must have our spree, Cheap excursion-tickets, By the land and sea, Take us for next to nothing There and back again, Blow the doubtful weather, Never mind the rain! _Fun_, April 27, 1867.