Will it be long, then--long?
For the people watch and wait,
Till the strength of the onion makes them strong,
At only the normal rate.
And their eyes are dim with tears,
And ache with the need of sleep.
And watch till the lapse of the lapsing years
Shall make the onions cheap.
Cheap, my love, cheap! Sleep, my love, sleep!
Onions are dear, love, but sentiment's cheap!

II.

Listen! Is it a voice
Calling--again--again,
Or a fragrance to make my heart rejoice
From the sunlit land of Spain?
Listen, my own, my bride,
While the glad tears dew your cheek,
They are fried, my bride, by the sad sea tide
With a smell that can almost speak
Creep, my love, creep into the deep,
And sing to the fishes that onions are cheap.

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THE PROPOSED ONE-POUND NOTES.--"Ne-Goschenable currency."

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