The Poetry Corner

In Town.

By Henry Austin Dobson

"The blue fly sung in the pane."--Tennyson. Toiling in Town now is "horrid," (There is that woman again!)-- June in the zenith is torrid, Thought gets dry in the brain. There is that woman again: "Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!" Thought gets dry in the brain; Ink gets dry in the bottle. "Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!" Oh for the green of a lane!-- Ink gets dry in the bottle; "Buzz" goes a fly in the pane! Oh for the green of a lane, Where one might lie and be lazy! "Buzz" goes a fly in the pane; Bluebottles drive me crazy! Where one might lie and be lazy, Careless of Town and all in it!-- Bluebottles drive me crazy: I shall go mad in a minute! Careless of Town and all in it, With some one to soothe and to still you;-- I shall go mad in a minute; Bluebottle, then I shall kill you! With some one to soothe and to still you, As only one's feminine kin do,-- Bluebottle, then I shall kill you: There now! I've broken the window! As only one's feminine kin do,-- Some muslin-clad Mabel or May!-- There now! I've broken the window! Bluebottle's off and away! Some muslin-clad Mabel or May, To dash one with eau de Cologne;-- Bluebottle's off and away; And why should I stay here alone! To dash one with eau de Cologne, All over one's eminent forehead;-- And why should I stay here alone! Toiling in Town now is "horrid."