When the gusts are at play with the trees on the lawn, And the lights are put out in the vault of the night; When within all is snug, for the curtains are drawn, And the fire is aglow and the lamps are alight, Sometimes, as I muse, from the place where I am My thoughts fly away to a room near the Cam. 'Tis a ramshackle room, where a man might complain Of a slope in the ceiling, a rise in the floor; With a view on a court and a glimpse on a lane, And no end of cool wind through the chinks of the door; With a deep-seated chair that I love to recall, And some groups of young oarsmen in shorts on the wall. There's a fat jolly jar of tobacco, some pipes-- A meerschaum, a briar, a cherry, a clay-- There's a three-handled cup fit for Audit or Swipes When the breakfast is done and the plates cleared away. There's a litter of papers, of books a scratch lot, Such as _Plato_, and _Dickens_, and _Liddell and Scott_. And a crone in a bonnet that's more like a rag From a mist of remembrance steps suddenly out; And her funny old tongue never ceases to wag As she tidies the room where she bustles about; For a man may be strong and a man may be young, But he can't put a drag on a Bedmaker's tongue. And, oh, there's a youngster who sits at his ease In the hope, which is vain, that the tongue may run down, With his feet on the grate and a book on his knees, And his cheeks they are smooth and his hair it is brown. Then I sigh myself back to the place where I am From that ramshackle room near the banks of the Cam. THE LAST STRAW I sing the sofa! It had stood for years, An invitation to benign repose, A foe to all the fretful brood of fears, Bidding the weary eye-lid sink and close. Massive and deep and broad it was and bland-- In short the noblest sofa in the land. You, too, my friend, my solid friend, I sing, Whom on an afternoon I did behold Eying--'twas after lunch--the cushioned thing, And murmuring gently, "Here are realms of gold, And I shall visit them," you said, "and be The sofa's burden till it's time for tea." "Let those who will go forth," you said, "and dare, Beyond the cluster of the little shops, To strain their limbs and take the eager air, Seeking the heights of Hedsor and its copse. I shall abide and watch the far-off gleams Of fairy beacons from the world of dreams." Then forth we fared, and you, no doubt, lay down, An easy victim to the sofa's charms, Forgetting hopes of fame and past renown, Lapped in those padded and alluring arms. "How well," you said, and veiled your heavy eyes, "It slopes to suit me! This is Paradise." So we adventured to the topmost hill, And, when the sunset shot the sky with red, Homeward returned and found you taking still Deep draughts of peace with pillows 'neath your head. "His sleep," said one, "has been unduly long." Another said, "Let's bring and beat the gong."