HERBS OF GRACE.

VIII.

SOUTHERNWOOD.

  Some are for Camphor to put with their dresses,
    “Lay Russia-leather between ’em,” say some;
  Some are for Lavender sprinkled in presses,
    Some are for Woodruff, that moths may not come;
  I am for Southernwood, Southernwood, Southernwood
    (Gardy-robe called, they do say, by the French),
  Whisper of summertime, summertime, summertime,
    Southernwood, laid wi’ the clothes of a wench.

  Some are for Violets, some are for Roses,
    Some for Peniriall, some for Bee Balm,
  When they go church-along carrying posies
    (Smell ’em and glance at the lads in the psalm);
  I am for Southernwood, Southernwood, Southernwood
    (Lad’s Love ’tis called by the home-folk hereby),
  All in the summertime, summertime, summertime—­
    Lad’s Love ’tis called, and for lad’s love am I.

  W.B.

* * * * *

THE POET.

    [Commenting upon the fact that Mr. Justice Salter objected to Mr.
    Wild, K.C., reading poetry in court, a contemporary gossip-writer
    remarks, “Why do people write poetry?”]

The following communications, evidently intended for our contemporary, were inadvertently addressed to Mr. Punch:—­

DEAR SIR,—­I took up poetry because I was once bitten by an editor’s dog and I determined to be avenged.

DEAR SIR,—­Two years ago I lost Sidney, my pet silkworm, and as I had to take up some hobby I decided on poetry.

DEAR SIR,—­With me it is a gift.  It just came to me.  On the other hand my friends often suggest my seeing a doctor, as they think there may be a piece of bone pressing on the brain.

DEAR SIR,—­I used to suffer from red hair, and gradually I am getting the stuff turned grey.  By the way, can you give me a rhyme for “Camouflage”?

DEAR SIR,—­I began writing lyrics for ragtime revues, because I wanted to see what would happen if I just took hold of the pen and let her rip.

* * * * *

From a calendar:—­

  “October 31.  Wednesday.

  August to October Game Certificates expire,
  Mystical carpeted earth, with dead leaves of desire,
  Disrobing earth dying beneath love’s fire.”

The rhymes are all right, but the scansion of the first line is susceptible of improvement.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Fair Lecturer (to Food Economy Committee).  “OF COURSE I HAD TO MAKE IT AS SIMPLE AS POSSIBLE TO REACH A RATHER LOW LEVEL OF INTELLECT.  I HOPE YOU ALL UNDERSTOOD.”]

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

(BY MR. PUNCH’S STAFF OF LEARNED CLERKS.)