It's only a year, since at College
You put on your cap and your gown;
But, Clarence, you're grown out of knowledge,
And chang'd from the spur to the crown:
The voice that was best when it faltered
Is fuller and firmer in tone;
And the smile that should never have altered,--
Dear Clarence,--it is not your own:
Your cravat was badly selected,
Your coat don't become you at all;
And why is your hair so neglected?
You _must_ have it curled for our Ball.

I've often been out upon Haldon,
To look for a covey with Pup:
I've often been over to Shaldon,
To see how your boat is laid up:
In spite of the terrors of Aunty,
I've ridden the filly you broke;
And I've studied your sweet, little Dante,
In the shade of your favourite oak:
When I sat in July to Sir Lawrence,
I sat in your love of a shawl;
And I'll wear what you brought me from Florence,
Perhaps, if you'll come to our Ball.

You'll find us all changed since you vanished:
We've set up a National School,
And waltzing is utterly banished--
And Ellen has married a fool--