Bread And Circuses

y, in the wood ? The Lady Pheasant and her Brood ; So stand we still, to let them pass On oak-leaves through the tasselled grass. Down dappled aisles of hazel shade They disappear along the glade, My Lady in her rusty gown, Ten children clad in useful brown. But one fledged laggard stops to eat The plantain seeds at Betsey's feet, Who plucks my ringers : " Mother, come We'll pick him up and take him home ! " The nestling joins the hidden nine Deep in the copse; and I lift mine And bear her home along the lane,? " I want him ! " still pouts Betsey-Jane. TIME'S TYRANNESS TTOW few alack, There be along the track Of life which hear not at their back (Though small birds sing And blessed belfries ring) The creaking of Time's iron wing; And, in mad flight From an untempted might, Trample the lovely fields of light, Nor for a space Pause in their fearful race To look their tyrant in the face.? In you alone, Dear child, there ever shone Divine deliberation. And now in weed And grass you bid Time speed Away in dandelion seed, Till your bright hair, For the down mingled there, His very greyness looks to wear. Ah happy she Whose gentle hours be Told by such kind chronometry ! For now Time saith, Who smiling listeneth, " Lo, a child flouts me with a breath ! " And so, to assuage Sweetly a feigned rage, . . He dims your hair with mimic age. THE GINGER CAT "TH... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.