Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 23, 1892 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 36 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 23, 1892.

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 23, 1892 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 36 pages of information about Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 23, 1892.

Title:  Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, July 23, 1892

Author:  Various

Release Date:  February 7, 2005 [EBook #14965]

Language:  English

Character set encoding:  ASCII

*** Start of this project gutenberg EBOOK Punch ***

Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the PG Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.

PUNCH,

Or the London charivari.

Vol. 103.

July 23, 1892.

[Illustration:  Too Clever by half.

And where did you learn to speak English so well?”

From Lady JENKINSON’S children, Madame.  I came over from Switzerland to Teach them French and German!”

And DID they learn French and German?”

No, Madame, not A word!”]

* * * * *

To A Summer flower.

  Oh, lovely flower sent from afar,
    Like sunlight to this world of ours,
  What art thou but a golden star,
    A priceless gem amongst the flowers?

  Alas, all earthly things must die,
    Thou, too, fair yellow flower must fade,
  Thou wilt not charm an Artist’s eye,
    Upon the breast of some fair maid!

  Ah, no, thine is a nobler fate,
    Unlike the lily or the rose,
  Thou passest to a higher state
    When in sad death thy petals close: 

  For then thine outward form, grown pale
    Is changed to what, at first scarce seen,
  Is still thyself, so fair, so frail,
    A little fruit of tender green!

  When quite matured, how very choice
    Thy juicy flavour; who can then
  Sing all thy worth with mortal voice,
    Or write thy praise with mortal pen.

  There, take it gently from the ground,
    O costermonger, to thy barrow,
  And shout, with loud discordant sound,
    The praise of Vegetable Marrow!

* * * * *

Roe, Bloater’s-Roe.

  Faintly it wakes at the even chime,
  The appetite long past its prime. 
  The supper-room at the Club looks dim. 
  What shall I “peck” for an epicure’s whim? 
  Roe, Bloater’s Roe!  That’s the brief repast
  To tickle the palate, to break the fast!

  They may prate of the pleasures of “early purl,”
  Of the frizzled rasher’s seductive curl,
  But, when I fear I can munch no more,
  When the thought of banquets becomes a bore,
  Roe, Bloater’s Roe, upon toast they cast,
  And nausea’s fled, and repletion’s past!

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 23, 1892 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.