THE LITTLE TEA BOOK 



"Tis woman still that makes or mars the man. 

 And so it is, the creature can beguile 

 The fairest faces of the readiest smile. 

 The third who comes the hyson to inhale, 

 If not a man, at least appears a male. 



Last of the rout, and dogg'd with public cares, 

 The politician stumbles up the stairs ; 

 Whose dusky soul nor beauty can illume, 

 Nor wine dispel his patriotic gloom. 

 In restless ire from guest to guest he goes, 

 And names us all among our country's foes ; 

 Swears 'tis a shame that we should drink our 



tea, 



'Till wrongs are righted and the nation free, 

 That priests and poets are a venal race, 

 Who preach for patronage and rhyme for place ; 

 Declares that boys and girls should not be coo- 

 ing, 



When England's hope is bankruptcy and ruin ; 

 That wiser 'twere the coming wrath to fly, 

 And that old women should make haste to die. 



Condensed from a poem published in Fraser^s 

 Magazine, January, 1857, and ascribed to Hart- 

 ley Coleridge. 



