To a Member of the Bureau on His Birthday

What time, My Lady, in her chair, With gallant escort, took the air, My Lord, be-powdered and be-patched, Content if one fair glance he snatched; In those far days 'twas quite the mode To humbly dedicate an ode. Conveying due and just applause For efforts in the public cause— In art, in letters, or in war, 'Midst paths of peace, or cannon's roar, In private life, or parliament, When e'er occasion should present.

This introduction serves to show From whence the bard of this Bureau Has filched the form in which to pay Our greetings on this happy day, To one to whom 'tis our delight To render homage, his by right, But better still, by free consent, To the beloved recipient.

Linked with the history of the age His past lies writ on many a page; Much of his three score years and ten He's lavished on his fellowmen; And line would add to line if I To duly chronicle should try. But in our records ne'er will fade His talk on "Inter-Empire Trade." When heard, we inspiration drew, And recollection draws anew.

And thus, on this red-letter day. These feeble words slight tribute pay To one who puts no pride or pomps on— That sturdy Briton, Nichol Thompson.