Volume 102 — ST. JOHN'S WOOD.

These hapless homes of middle class, Can they escape annihilation When come, in place of trees and grass, A filthy goods-yard and a station? If such seclusion sheltered Peers, Their wealth and influence might save it; No speculator ever fears Artists or writers such as crave it; Or if it housed the WORKING MAN, Would Lords or Commons dare eject him? Picture the clamour if you can! His vote, his demagogues, protect him. But you, who only use your brains— The people's voice, the noble's money, Not yours—why save you from the trains? For quiet, do you say? How funny! Perhaps you think, because in May The talk is all of Art and beauty, The Commons also think that way; Not so, they have a higher duty. If only speculators shout, And millionnaires take up the story, They thrust all Art and Nature out, For Trade is England's greatest glory. Then, if a careless House some day Permit the Channel Tunnel boring, Think how this railway line would pay; If you had shares you'd cease deploring. Think of the cotton-laden trains Direct from Manchester to Asia! Think of the Sheffield Railway's gains, Not of your lilac or acacia!