Volume 146 — SHOP.

When the new Spring is drawing near There always rises in my blood A keen desire to see the year Fresh opening in the bud. From my tame task to wander free; For one brief day to get me gone To some sweet rural spot, and see How things are getting on. So, when a rising glass invites, Off by the ready train I fare; How sweet are all the country sights, How fresh the country air! Here every prospect has its charm; On every side I find a spell; There is a pleasure in a farm, And (almost) in the smell. 'Tis sweet to see the pretty lambs, To mark them as they frisk and jump, Or nestle round their anxious dams, So placid and so plump. I hear the lark's ecstatic gush From his clear ambush in the sky; A blackbird (if it's not a thrush) Sings from a wood hard by. I climb towards an open lea Whereon the goodly cattle browse, And oh, it does me good to see Such oxen and such cows. And here and there an early calf Staggers about with weakling frame; It is a sight that makes me laugh; I feel so glad I came. The orchard with its early pink (Cherry, I'm told) adorns the scene; While the horse-chestnut (as I think) Is well-nigh turning green. So through the day I roam apart, And bless the happy dawn of Spring, Which thrills a butcher's homely heart With such sweet visiting. But soon the light begins to fade, And I must quit these rural joys To labour at my daily trade Mid London's dust and noise. Back to the buses and the trams, To think on Spring's recurring boon, Especially the calves and lambs: They will be ready soon. Dum-Dum.