Classic Poem

While you, at Brynhyffyn,
Are taking your muffin,
And shrimps and plum-duff in
The sight of the sea,
Remember, remember,
The Ides of September,
And this junior member,
Who wishes to flee!

You, bold as a Viking,
And clad to your liking,
Go bathing or ‘biking,’
Wherever you please;
He, worried and fretting,
Tight-collared and sweating,
Is well-nigh forgetting
The colour of trees!

No President wrings you,
No work the post brings you,
The salt water stings you
Wherever you go;
Lost,—lost in the Present,
And free as a pheasant,
Your ‘Minutes’ are pleasant,
But his are not so!

For ‘F. and H.’ grinds him,
And blue paper blinds him,
And red tape enwinds him
From shoulder to knee;
While you at Brynhyffyn
Grow sleek as a puffin,
With every new snuff in
You take of the sea!