[Illustration]
They seized him and court-martialled him,
In some excess of spleen,
For lack of social sympathy,
(Victoria xii. 18).
They gathered every evidence
That might remove a doubt:
They wrote a postcard in his name,
And partly scratched it out.
Till, when his guilt was clear as day,
With all formality
They doomed the traitor to be drowned,
And threw him in the sea.
[Illustration]
The flashing sunset, as he sank,
Made every scale a gem;
And, turning with a graceful bow,
He kissed his fin to them.
[Illustration]
MORAL.
I am, I think I have remarked,
Terrifically old,
(The second Ice-age was a farce,
The first was rather cold.)
A friend of mine, a trilobite
Had gathered in his youth,
When trilobites _were_ trilobites,
This all-important truth.
We aged ones play solemn parts--
Sire--guardian--uncle--king.
Affection is the salt of life,
Kindness a noble thing.
The old alone may comprehend
A sense in my decree;
But--if you find a fish on land,
Oh throw it in the sea.
* * * * *
ON THE DISASTROUS SPREAD OF AESTHETICISM IN ALL CLASSES.
Impetuously I sprang from bed,
Long before lunch was up,
That I might drain the dizzy dew
From day's first golden cup.
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