Volume 102 — ON THE FIRST GREEN CHAIR.

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!