Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98, January 4, 1890

read at large her filmy net To catch the moonbeams, wavering white, At the front gate on Autumn night.

Then suddenly the sombre way Rock'd like the darkness struck by day, The endless houses reel'd from sight, And all romance and all delight Came thronging in a glorious crowd. So, when the drums are beating loud, The mob comes sweeping down the Mall, Far heralding the bear-skins tall. Glorious in golden clothing comes The great drum-major with his drums And sun-smit brass of trumpets; then The scarlet wall of marching men, Midmost of which great Mavors sets The colours girt with bayonets. Yes, there were you--and there was I, Unshaved, and with erratic tie, And for that once I yearn'd to shun My social system's central sun. How could a sloven slave express The frank, the manly tenderness That wraps you round from common thought, And does not ask that you should know The love that consecrates you so. No; furtive, awkward, restless, cold, I basely seemed to set at naught That sudden bliss, undreamt, unso