A REVIEW IN RHYME.

A LITTLE of Horace, a little of Prior, A sketch of a Milkmaid, a lay of the Squire— These, these are ‘on draught’ ‘At the Sign of the Lyre!’

A child in Blue Ribbons that sings to herself, A talk of the Books on the Sheraton shelf, A sword of the Stuarts, a wig of the Guelph,

A lai, a pantoum, a ballade, a rondeau, A pastel by Greuze, and a sketch by Moreau, And the chimes of the rhymes that sing sweet as they go,

A fan, and a folio, a ringlet, a glove, ’Neath a dance by Laguerre on the ceiling above, And a dream of the days when the bard was in love,

A scent of dead roses, a glance at a pun, A toss of old powder, a glint of the sun, They meet in the volume that Dobson has done!

If there’s more that the heart of a man can desire, He may search, in his Swinburne, for fury and fire; If he’s wise—he’ll alight ‘At the Sign of the Lyre!’