Deportmental ditties : and other verses . is opinion of the House of Lords to poor Miss Vesta Tilley. When fish was served, a fellow-guest exclaimed, Here come the Souls!Who is the wag? I asked my host. He answered, K. G. Knowles. Those others, he continued, who arrived a little late,Are Cinquevalli, Father Vaughan, and Mr. Harry Tate. Poor Mr. E. McKenna grew uncomfortably hotWhen discussing Naval Estimates with Mr. Malcolm Scott,And the peace of the proceedings was no doubt a trifle marredBy the Poet Laureates arguments with Mr. Wilkie Bard. 72 Dinner in Downing Street But the dinner was a t
Deportmental ditties : and other verses . is opinion of the House of Lords to poor Miss Vesta Tilley. When fish was served, a fellow-guest exclaimed, Here come the Souls!Who is the wag? I asked my host. He answered, K. G. Knowles. Those others, he continued, who arrived a little late,Are Cinquevalli, Father Vaughan, and Mr. Harry Tate. Poor Mr. E. McKenna grew uncomfortably hotWhen discussing Naval Estimates with Mr. Malcolm Scott,And the peace of the proceedings was no doubt a trifle marredBy the Poet Laureates arguments with Mr. Wilkie Bard. 72 Dinner in Downing Street But the dinner was a triumph. That It went without a hitchl attribute very largely to the tact of Little Tich,Who declared himself in favour of Religious Education,When fche advent of the Zancigs put a stop to conversation. Oh ! I trust such social gatherings will soon become the rage,And prove (as Mr. Bobey says) that all the worlds a stag-So delightful are the people one is privileged to meetAt those pleasant little dinners that they give in Downing Street!. 73 THE RETURN OF GENEE When you do dance, I wish youA wave o the sea, that you might ever doNothing but thaty See, the sculptured Bard of Avon Gazing with a wistful airAt the notices engraven On thy hoardings, Leicester Square!How he envies common mortalsSurging through the Empires portals ! Nelson, on his lonely column,With a happy smile looks down; How can any one be solemn ? Genee has returned to town ! Een the meanest Little Briton For the nonce is Empire-smitten ! She for whom we long have waited,She whose triumphs we would share, She whom all New York has feted,She whom London cannot spare, Comes to gladden English glances With her old familiar dances. 74 The Return of Genee Welcome Bhe as Bummer weal her IWhat with (l-enee can compa re ? Bubble, gossamer, or feather?Butterfly or bird in air? Morning mist upon the mountain?Sunlight flickering in a fountain ? Hither, thither, sweet and slender,Fairylike, she comes and goes (Thistledown is
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