Classic Poem

" Hoc erat in votis. "

Oh, could I encounter a Gillman,
Who would board me and lodge me for aye,
With what intellectual skill, man,
My life should be frittered away!

What visions of study methodic
My leisurely hours would beguile! —
I would potter with details prosodic,
I would ponder perfections of style.

I would joke in a vein pessimistic
At all the disasters of earth;
I would trifle with schemes socialistic,
And turn over matters for mirth.

From the quiddities quaint of Quintilian
I would flit to the latest critiques; —
I would visit the London Pavilion,
And magnify lion-comiques.

With the grim ghastly gaze of a Gorgon
I would cut Hendersonian bores —
I would follow the ambulant organ
That jingles at publicans' doors.

In the odorous alleys of Wapping
I would saunter on evenings serene;
When the dews of the Sabbath were dropping
You would find me on Clerkenwell Green.

At the Hall Scientific of Bradlaugh
I would revel in atheist rant,
Or enjoy an attack on some bad law
By the notable Mrs. Besant.

I would never omit an oration
Of Cunninghame Graham or Burns;
And the Army miscalled of Salvation
Should furnish me frolic by turns.

Perchance I would muse o'er a mystic;
Perchance I would booze at a bar;
And when in the mind journalistic
I would read the " Pall Mall " and the " Star. "

Never more would I toil with my quill, man,
Or plead for the publishers' pay. —
Oh where and Oh where is the Gillman,
Who will lodge me and board me for aye?