O’er the season vernal, Time may cast a shade; Sunshine, if eternal, Makes the roses fade: Time may do his duty; Let the thief alone— Winter hath a beauty That is all his own. Fairest days are sun and shade: Happy be thy life, O maid! A NIGHTMARE WHEN you’re lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is taboo’d by anxiety, I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in without impropriety; For your brain is on fire—the bedclothes conspire of usual slumber to plunder you: First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes, and your sheet slips demurely from under you; Then the blanketing tickles—you feel like mixed pickles, so terribly sharp is the pricking, And you’re hot, and you’re cross, and you tumble and toss till there’s nothing ’twixt you and the ticking. Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap, and you pick ’em all up in a tangle; Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to remain at its usual angle! Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with hot eyeballs and head ever aching, But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams that you’d very much better be waking; For you dream you are crossing the Channel, and tossing about in a steamer from Harwich, Which is something between a large bathing-machine and a very small second-class carriage; And you’re giving a treat (penny ice and cold meat) to a party of friends and relations— They’re a ravenous horde—and they all came on board at Sloane Square and South Kensington Stations. And bound on that journey you find your attorney (who started that morning from Devon); He’s a bit undersized, and you don’t feel surprised when he tells you he’s only eleven. Well, you’re driving like mad with this singular lad (by the bye the ship’s now a four-wheeler), And you’re playing round games, and he calls you bad names when you tell him that “ties pay the dealer”; But this you can’t stand, so you throw up your hand, and you find you’re as cold as an icicle, In your shirt and your socks (the black silk with gold clocks), crossing Salisbury Plain on a bicycle: And he and the crew are on bicycles too—which they’ve somehow or other invested in— And he’s telling the tars all the particu_lars_ of a company he’s interested in— It’s a scheme of devices, to get at low prices, all goods from cough mixtures to cables (Which tickled the sailors) by treating retailers, as though they were all vege_ta_bles— You get a good spadesman to plant a small tradesman (first take off his boots with a boot-tree), And his legs will take root, and his fingers will shoot, and they’ll blossom and bud like a fruit-tree— From the greengrocer tree you get grapes and green pea, cauliflower, pineapple, and cranberries,