Break, break, break

On thy Billiard-board, oh P.!

As easy as cutting butter

The business seems to thee.

"Oh, well that the spot is barred,"

The knowing ones glibly say,

"Or we might get no chance

Of a COLES' strike here to-day."

And the marvellous game goes on.

Till the watchers have their fill;

And one drops off, and dreams

He's taken the "Red" for a pill.

Break, break, break!

And there's one that will broken be;

For the Pony I put on the other man

Will never come back to me.

Reach it, attendant; wicked winter flies off:

Place it with pomp for me to sit and stare

Up at the sun who banquets us with cries of

"Chair!"

Long have we pined in darkness most uncanny:

Now to Hyde Park return its gauze of gold,

Jewels of crocus and enhancements mani-

-fold.

Welcome, delicious zephyr, blithe new-comer,

Urging to purchase patent-leather boots,

Hats of a virgin glossiness, and summer

suits.

Welcome, attire of carnival-carousers,

Suddenly bursting on the 'wildered view.

Mine—I don't mind confessing it—are trousers

new,

These that, serene in atmosphere serenest,

Droop o'er a Chair, whose emerald taunts the trees—

Green are the leaves, and greener than the greenest

Peas!

All things must end: to-morrow may be icy:

Wither too soon the joys that freshest are;

End will sweet summer reveries, and my ci-

gar.

Ends too that master-piece of Messrs. HYAM

Bashfully hinted at in line sixteen;

Green was the Chair I sat on—and now I am

green!