Volume 156 — TO PEACE, ON HER CELEBRATIONS.

"Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind" (As Colonel LOVELACE said) if I From festal scenes for you designed To solitude propose to fly; If, when the strident trumpets blare From Hampstead Heath to Clapham Junction, And bunting fills the ardent air, I don't assist at that brave function. It does not follow, let me say, That I am loath to give you cheer; No, in my unobtrusive way I hold you very, very dear; I may not join the loud parade Nor share the crowd's ecstatic tooting, Yet in your honour I have paid Twelve guineas for a summer suiting. Think not I sniff at common joys Or that my loyal heart condemns A nation's soul expressed in noise And pageants barging down the Thames; Only, while others dance and pant To hymns that carry half a mile hence, I never was a Corybant, But do my worship best in silence. So on your festa I shall be Away in some sequestered nook, Some open shrine beside the sea Where Nature smiles with just your look; And lie and let my thoughts go off To where you come from—which is Heaven, And play a quiet round of golf And go to bed about eleven. O.S.