This page has been validated.
ANACREONTICS.
I am lying, Johnston, lying—so I cannot walk to thee,
To the glorious punchifying, where the merry fellows be;
Where the painters all are tippling the most picturesque of punches;
In its gentle eddy rippling through the jolliest of lunches;
Where those tales of Bayard Taylor's with Herodotus compete,
And Cranch will sing the Sailors who their comrade tried to eat.
How I wonder what you fellows think or speak of me to-day!
Will it worry Dr. Bellows if Carl Benson is away,
30
