Lapsus Calami (Apr 1891)/Midsummer
For other versions of this work, see Midsummer (J.K.S.).
3. Midsummer.
Persons at various times have saidThat the hot dank steam of a sun-scorched dayIs a thing to thank God for: strike me deadIf I let such a falsehood lack its nay.
When Philip of Spain or our own red MaryDesired to be rid of an impious man,Did they freeze him to death? they were not so charyOf man's worst weapon, the frying pan.
The fire, or the frying pan—well, the adageTells us the difference is but small,And the fact remains that in that last bad ageWhen man had all torture-tricks at call,
They knew what was best and did it duly,And broiled those most whom they loved the least.Man, is it thou that hast proved unruly?They are broiling thee, thou sinful beast.
Languid and frenzied, most despairingWhen least's to despair at, such we grow,When the sun's rays down on our heads, naught sparing,Burn and blister. I'd have you know
I have strung together these sad reflectionsTo prove to my tutor, a stern stark man,That my chance of a decent place in collectionsDrooped and died when the heat began.
Eton Rambler, June 4th, 1880.