Become uncomfortably stout:
Let gourmets feel th' approaching touch
Of gout,--

The Bard subsists on simpler food:
A dinner, not severely plain,
A pint or so of really good
Champagne--

Grant him but these, no care he'll take
Though Laureates bask in Fortune's smile,
Though Kiplings and Corellis make
Their pile:

Contented with a scantier dole
His humble Muse serenely jogs,
Remote from scenes where authors roll
Their logs:

Far from the madding crowd she lurks,
And really cares no single jot
Whether the public read her works
Or not!




THE JOURNALIST ABROAD

When Parson, Doctor, Don,--