SERIO-COMIC VERSE. 619 



Not for them the darkened room, 



Lens, and perforation ; 

 Enemies are they to gloom, 



Foes to Insulation. 

 Theirs the light of perfect Day, 



Theirs the sense of Freedom ; 

 Dungeons, and the tortured ray, 



Serve for those that need 'em. 



Song to them of right belongs, 



Eloquently flowing ; 

 Sweeping down time-honoured wrongs, 



Surging, burning, glowing. 

 Songs in which all hearts rejoice, 



Songs of ancient story ; 

 Songs that fill a People's voice 



Marching on to glory. 



Thus they live, and thus they love, 



Thus they soar in singing ; 

 Like glad larks in heaven above, 



Dazzling courses winging. 

 Here, I prithee, turn thy mind 



To a little fable 

 Of the fledged and rooted kind, 



Bird and vegetable. 



Pensive in his lowly nest 



Once a Lark was lying ; 

 Often did he heave his breast 



Querulously sighing. 

 For he saw with envious eyes, 



Pampered vegetation 

 Cabbages of goodly size, 



SwolTn with emulation. 



Till their self-infolded green 



Tight crammed, wide distended, 

 Seemed in sphered pomp to mean 



All that it pretended. 



