. Carols of Cockayne. surrender ! 179 ALL ALONE, A Lay of the Morte Saison, TV ft Y Brown has gone away to Greece, My Robinson to Rome ;My Jones was off to-day for Nice, And I am still at friend is on the Tiber, Another on the Rhone,The third a &7£v£-imbiber— And I am all alone. The Row is dull as dull can be ; Deserted is the Drive ;The glass that stood at eighty-three Stands now at summer days are over ; The town, ah, me ! has flownThrough Dover or to clover— And I am all alone. l8o CAROLS OF COCKAYNE. I hate the mention of Lucerne, Of Baden and the Rhine ;I hate the
. Carols of Cockayne. surrender ! 179 ALL ALONE, A Lay of the Morte Saison, TV ft Y Brown has gone away to Greece, My Robinson to Rome ;My Jones was off to-day for Nice, And I am still at friend is on the Tiber, Another on the Rhone,The third a &7£v£-imbiber— And I am all alone. The Row is dull as dull can be ; Deserted is the Drive ;The glass that stood at eighty-three Stands now at summer days are over ; The town, ah, me ! has flownThrough Dover or to clover— And I am all alone. l8o CAROLS OF COCKAYNE. I hate the mention of Lucerne, Of Baden and the Rhine ;I hate the Oberland of Berne, And Alp and hate the wilds of Norway, As here I sit and moan—With none to cross my doorway— For I am all alone. Brick streets do not a prison make, Nor hollow squares a cell;And so for Memorys pleasant sake, I 11 bear my sorrows lyre may lose the gladness That markd its former tone ;But, oh ! respect my sadness— For I am all alone. i8r r0H NIGHTS AND SUPPERS, ATE grant us again such a meeting Of music, and wisdom, and wit—Where Mirth may make sure of agreeting,And Care of a notice to our long and yet fast-flyingnights,And with six clever dogs for aquorum—We still may revive the delightsOf our Nodes ccenceque deorum. Long nights, to be long recollected ; Short nights, can I shortly forget,How punning went mad, and infected The soberest brains in our set;- - 182 CAROLS OF COCKAYNE. How the quips and the cranks running roundPut a stopper to mental decorum ;— How Laughter was monarch, and crowndAt our Nodes coenoeque deorum ? Not always in lightness, however, Our nights and our suppers were spent;—At times we could cease to be clever, Could speak with a nobler an eloquence fresh from the heart (Not unworthy the Senate or Forum)Bore often a prominent part In our Nodes caxioeque deorum. Our circle was rarely completed Without one musician at least,So Melody came to be treated As welcomest fare at the
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Keywords: ., bookauthorleighhen, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1874
