TO MISS KELLY. ON HER OPENING THE STRAND THEATRE.

BETTY—I beg pardon—Fanny K. (I was just thinking of your Betty Finnikin)— Permit me this to say, In quite a friendly way— I like your theatre, though but a minnikin; For though small stages Kean dislikes to spout on, Renounce me if I don’t agree with Dowton, The Minors are the Passions’ proper schools For me, I never can Find wisdom in the plan That keeps large reservoirs for little Pooles. I like your boxes where the audience sit A family circle; and your little pit; I like your little stage, where you discuss Your pleasant bill of fare, And show us passengers so rich and rare, Your little stage seems quite an omnibus. I like exceedingly your Parthian dame, Dimly remembering dramatic codgers, The ghost of Memory—the shade of Fame!— Lord! what a housekeeper for Mr. Rogers! I like your savage, of a one-horse power; And Terence, done in Irish from the Latin; And Sally—quite a kitchen-garden flower; And Mrs. Drake, serene in sky-blue satin! I like your girl as speechless as a mummy— It shows you can play dummy!— I like your boy, deprived of every gleam Of light for ever—a benighted being! And really think—though Irish it may seem— Your blindness is worth seeing. I like your Governess; and there’s a striking Tale of Two Brothers, that sets tears a-flowing— But I’m not going All through the bill to tell you of my liking. Suffice it, Fanny Kelly! with your art So much in love, like others I have grown, I really mean myself to take a part In “Free and Easy”—at my own bespeak— And shall three times a week Drop in and make your pretty house my own!