My head is bare,
A state of things that must
Soon make me swear!

When thus in early Spring
My joys are few,
I'll warm myself at home
With "Mountain Dew,"
Or fly to Nice, or Rome,
Or Timbuctoo.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A STUDIED INSULT.

_Box-Office Keeper at the Imperial Music-Hall_ (_to Farmer Murphy, who
is in Town for the Islington Horse Show_). "BOX OR TWO STALLS, SIR?"

_Murphy_. "WHAT THE DEV'L D'YE MANE? D'YE TAKE ME AN' THE MISSUS FOR A
PAIR O' PROIZE 'OSSES? OI'LL HAVE TWO SATES IN THE DHRESS CIRCLE, AND
LET 'EM BE AS DHRESSY AS POSSIBLE, MOIND!"]

* * * * *

A BIRD OF PREY.

The Laureate, seeking Love's last law,
Finds "Nature red in tooth and claw
With ravin"; fierce and ruthless.
But Woman? Bard who so should sing