"Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind"
(As Colonel LOVELACE said) if I
From festal scenes for you designed
To solitude propose to fly;
If, when the strident trumpets blare
From Hampstead Heath to Clapham Junction,
And bunting fills the ardent air,
I don't assist at that brave function.

It does not follow, let me say,
That I am loath to give you cheer;
No, in my unobtrusive way
I hold you very, very dear;
I may not join the loud parade
Nor share the crowd's ecstatic tooting,
Yet in your honour I have paid
Twelve guineas for a summer suiting.

Think not I sniff at common joys
Or that my loyal heart condemns
A nation's soul expressed in noise
And pageants barging down the Thames;
Only, while others dance and pant
To hymns that carry half a mile hence,
I never was a Corybant,
But do my worship best in silence.

So on your _festa_ I shall be
Away in some sequestered nook,