Verses To John Tupper

DEAR Jack Alack! A few days back I bound myself by oath to smack My lips o'er sloshy tea, and attack White, brown, or black Bread, and vile jokes to crack, This night with brutes whose knack Would squeeze a pun in Syriac. And for to—morrow, alack! I have a model on my track, So that I may not pack. Of course I writhe upon the rack: Though as to NATURE, Jack, (Poor dear old hack!) Touching sky, sun, stone, stick, and stack, I guess I'm half a quack; For whom ten lines of Browning whack The whole of the Zodiac. Nevertheless, alack! Seeing this time I must send back To Prince and Baron, Stephens and Jack (Spec—cadav Rex, hic hæc hoc hac), And to the Maniac, The sack. This much from D.G.R. (in black, I.e., with coal—ash cloth—of—sack.)