Classic Poem

My Lord and Lady Darlington,
I would not speak in snarling tone;
Nor, to you, good Lady Vane,
Would I give one moment's pain;
Nor Miss Taylor, Captain Stamp,
Would I your flights of memory cramp.
Yet, having spent a summer's day
On the green margin of Loch Tay,
And doubled (prospect ever bettering)
The mazy reaches of Loch Katerine,
And more than once been free at Luss,
Loch Lomond's beauties to discuss,
And wished, at least, to hear the blarney
Of the sly boatmen of Killarney,
And dipped my hand in dancing wave
Of Eau de Zurich, Lac Geneve,
And bowed to many a major-domo
On stately terraces of Como,
And seen the Simplon's forehead hoary,
Reclined on Lago Maggiore,
At breathless eventide at rest
On the broad water's placid breast, —
I, not insensible, Heaven knows,
To all the charms this Station shows,
Must tell you, Captain, Lord and Ladies,
For honest worth one poet's trade is,
That your praise appears to me
Folly's own hyperbole.