Oh, polychromatic postillion, Who scoureth the Scarborough plains, And beareth the travelling million For infinitesimal gains; Oh, butterfly, picture thee--there is the rub!-- Developing backwards to worse than a grub! It fills me with doldrums and dolour. To picture thy scarlet and blue Becoming so sadly "off colour," Descending to bumblebee hue; To dandy-grey russet; dunducketty dun! Oh, PAYN, this is painful. You must be in fun! A fly-driver frumpy and fusty? You might as well just be a fly, All fuzzy, and buzzy, and dusty, A horror to ear and to eye, A-booming about and fly-blowing the crockery, No, no, gentle PAYN, this is surely mere mockery. Would DARWIN were here to demolish "Development" turned upside down. Yon urchin in pink and high polish Degraded to rain-beaten brown? A butterfly turned a blackbeetle were sad, But nought to the fate of our postboy, poor lad! A Hansom may sink to a "Shoful," A racer descend to the rank; But _this_ metamorphosis woeful Is fortune's most pitiless prank. Smart urchin in emerald, cobalt, vermilion, Turn fly-driver? Far better _die_ a postillion. * * * * * MORGENLIED. (_By a Light Sleeper._) "Ye little birds that sit and sing" Outside my window when the day is dawning. How I should like your little necks to wring, I fain would sleep, with weariness I'm yawning. Although for rest you may not feel inclined, Do cease, I beg of you, that aimless twitter: Try without noise the early worm to find. Why should you seek my rest-time to embitter? No doubt you think your maddening cheep Sweeter than song of nightingale or linnet, But, tossing here with imprecations deep, I do declare I find no sweetness in it. "Higher up! move on!" or stay and hold your tongues, Had I a gun, the twig you'd quickly hop it; I wish you'd exercise your little lungs A thousand miles from here. In mercy stop it! * * * * * The Cyclist's Cycle. (_An Elderly would-be Wheelman's Experience._) Discuss the question,--"_Why_ Cycle?" Purchase a roadster,--Buy Cycle! Mount it, and tumble off--Try Cycle! Home bruised and shivering,--Icicle! Read the _Lancet_, am horrified,--Shy Cycle! Sell off at a sacrifice,--Fie Cycle! And that was the end of _my_ Cycle! * * * * * HERRICK ON RATIONAL DRESS.