"When the foal and brood-mare hinny, And in every cut-down spinney Lady's-Smocks grow _mauve and mauver_, Then the Winter days are over." This opens a polychromatic vista to the New Poetry. Technical Art comes to the aid of the elder Muses. The products of gas-tar alone should greatly regenerate a something time-worn poetic phraseology. As thus:-- When the poet, Mr. PENNYLINE, Is inspired by beauteous Aniline, Products chemical and gas-tarry Give the modern Muse new mastery. Mauve _may_ chime with love, and mauver Form a decent rhyme to lover; While (and if not, why not?) _mauvest_ Antiphonetic proves to lovest. (Verse erotic always sports Tricksily with longs and shorts. Verbal votaries of Venus Are an arbitrary genus, And as arrogant as HOWELLS In their dealings with the vowels. _Love, move, rove_, linked in a sonnet, Pass for rhymes; the best have done it!) Then again there is Magenta! Surely science never sent a Handier rhyme to--well, polenta, Or (for Cockney Muses) Mentor! The poetic sense auricular Can't afford to be particular. Rags of rhymes, mere assonances, Now must serve. Pegasus prances, Like a Buffalo Bill buck-jumper, When you have a "regular stumper" (Such as "silver") do not care about Perfect rhyming; "there or thereabout" Is the Muse's maxim now. You _may_ get (bards have, I trow) Rhyme's last minimum irreducible, From dye-vat, retort, or crucible. Verily (as _Touchstone_ says), "I'll rhyme you so, eight years together, dinners and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted." And if it is "the right butterwoman's rate to market," or "the very false gallop of verses," it is at any rate good enough for a long-eared public or a postulant for the Laureateship. * * * * * WAR ON A LARGE SCALE. (_AN ACCOUNT OF THE CONFLICT, FROM THE DIARY OF AN INHABITANT OF HERNE BAY._) _Monday._--Extremely awkward--the entire British Fleet have come ashore; and, as it is impossible to move them on account of their enormous tonnage, this will entail a loss of L24,000,000,000! _Tuesday._--Troubles never come singly! The French, taking advantage of the temporary suspension of our naval operations, have declared war. This means the utter ruin of the bathing season, not only at Herne Bay, but Southend, and the Isle of Thanet. _Wednesday._--As I expected! The French Fleet are coming up towards London. They are sure to pepper us as they pass. As every gun carries several hundred miles, I do not see how books can be uninterruptedly issued from and returned to the Circulating Library. _Thursday._--Our first slice of luck! The entire French Fleet during the mist last night came into collision with the Nore Light, and sank immediately. I was surprised at their sparing the Reculvers and the local bathing-machines, but now the mystery is explained.