Lapsus Calami (Aug 1891)/Midsummer
For other versions of this work, see Midsummer (J.K.S.).
3. Midsumer
Persons at various times have said That the hot dank steam of a sun-scorched dayIs a thing to thank God for: strike me dead If I let such a falsehood lack its nay.
When Philip of Spain, or our own red Mary, Desired to be rid of an impious man,Did they freeze him to death? they were not so chary Of 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 despairing When 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 reflections To prove to my tutor, a stern stark man,That my chance of a decent place in collections Drooped and died when the heat began.