A song incarnadine;

I found a coarse unpleasant man
With speckled chin--unhealthy, wan--
Of self-importance full:
Existing in an atmosphere
That reeked of gin and pipes and beer--
Conceited, fractious, dull.

The warrior whose ennobled name
Is woven with his country's fame,
Triumphant over all,
I found weak, palsied, bloated, blear;
His province seemed to be, to leer
At bonnets in Pall Mall.

Would that ye always shone, who write,
Bathed in your own innate limelight,
And ye who battles wage,
Or that in darkness I had died
Before my soul had ever sighed
To see you off the stage!



Babette's Love



BABETTE she was a fisher gal,