In the gloaming, oh, my Proctor, Think not bitterly of me! Tho’ I tripped you up instanter, Left you prostrate, and was free. For my diggings were quite handy, Five bob more could never be; It was best to floor you thus, sir, Worst for you, but best for me University College, Oxford. A. HASKETT SMITH. ―――― “IN THE GLOAMING;” OR, THE WAILINGS OF A DISAPPOINTED NOVICE. In the gloaming, oh! my darling! Don’t I curse the thoughts of thee! Crowding ever like grim phantoms, Haunting me unceasingly. Oh! my heart is sad with longing, What I dreamed will never be:[1] It were best to “chuck you up,” dear, Best for you and best for me. In the gloaming, oh! my darling! When thy light burns dim and low, And the vision of a bobby,[2] Sets my ruby all aglow! When with pain my limbs are aching, As I “hook it” awful slow, Withering condemnations hearty Of thy maker often flow. In the gloaming, oh! my darling! I will mount thee not in vain; Take thee to a near relation, “Pop thee up the spout” for gain! Thus I’ll rid me of thy torments, Instrument of make insane! I have learned by sad experience, Cycling ain’t an easy game. “AB INITIO.” _Icycles_. 1880. ―――― MORE GLOAMINGLY. In the gloaming, O my darling, Now our credit’s very low, And the tax-collectors calling, Often come and unpaid go; Now the landlord’s asking quaintly For the rent you know we owe, Will you let me have some money, As you did――once――long ago? In the gloaming, O my darling, Think not bitterly on me, If we bolt away in silence, Bilk our duns, and thus be free! For their hearts are crushed with longing,―― Paid their bills can never be; It is best to leave them thus, love, Best for you and best for me! It is best to leave them thus, love, Best for you and best for me! _Judy._ March 2, 1881. ―――― AN OXFORD SHOOTING EXPEDITION In the shooting, oh, my comrade, When the birds are flying low, And the hares and wily bunnies Swiftly come and swiftly go: When the beaters cry, “Mark over!” And a cock comes skimming low, Will you blaze away, and pot me, As you did once long ago? In the shooting, oh, my comrade, Think not bitterly of me, Though I shammed that you had killed me, And you rushed up pale to see. For I taught you then a lesson Which will ne’er forgotten be, It was best to teach it roughly, Best for all your friends and me!