Oh, to be out of London now that no one’s here, For who ever sleeps in London dreams each morning of a pier, And a flowing sail, and a burnished sea, And an azure sky that is not for me, While my darling sings at the _Seagul’s_ bow In Venice now. For after Goodwood, when Cowes follows, And the blue-blood leaves us like the swallows, Hark! where the blooming flower-cart in the street Leans ’neath its weight and scatters for the drover Petals and old clothes――’neath the bovine feet. That’s the harsh voice: that cries each ware twice over Lest you should miss the purport of his jargon, And this cheap matchless bargain. For though our streets are hot, and skies are blue, The air is not so fresh as breathed by you; The butterflies are thirsting for a shower; The milk of human kindness turning sour. _Fun._ August 13, 1884. Two parodies of the same poem appeared in _Punch_, one on April 14, 1883, the other on June 7, 1888. These can be readily obtained at _Punch_ office, as also the following: “The Losing Leader” _Punch_, July 26, 1884. “Stanley,” after Waring, _Punch_, June 2, 1888. “Gladstone Unmasked” which appeared in _Punch_ as long ago as 1866, was written by the late Shirley Brooks, as a parody on Browning. The poem, which is long and quite out of date now, may be found in “Wit and Humour” by Shirley Brooks, London, 1883. ――――:o:―――― POST CHRONOLOGY. A chronologic skull sir! ’twas a poet’s; But ’tother’s wasn’t my friend’s friend’s, I say. Our first, a Lombard, were the wind to blow its Loudest, could not daunt him, loved to pray Too, in all the English language is no rhyme Describes him thoroughly. You should have watched him knit Those brows of his, black brows, sir, scarred by time And scowling like a pent-house. But your sonnet Should have a moral, let’s to it, tooth and nail. You’d never catch it, were you to fall on it Without premeditation. Work like a snail Gnawing a lotus leaf, you’re on the brink of it―― How now Sir Numbskull turn and think of it. The above burlesque sonnet is given in Mr. John H. Ingram’s biography of “Oliver Madox Brown,” although it is doubtful whether that talented young poet was the author of it or what it means. ――――:o:―――― Mr. Browning wrote the following elegant and luminous lines for the window in honour of Her Majesty’s Jubilee, presented by the parishioners to St. Margaret’s, Westminster:―― Fifty years’ flight! wherein should he rejoice Who hailed their birth, who as they die decays? This――England echoes his attesting voice; Wondrous and well――thanks Ancient Thou of days. A correspondent, who is not a member of the Browning Society, thinks that the following quatrain might be substituted,――