When Strephon shuts the ledger to,
Relinquishing his duties,
And takes the train from Waterloo
For Clapham's rural beauties
He dearly loves en route, we read,
To smoke the solitary weed.
His hopes, alas, are quickly dashed,
For Chloë, maid provoking!
Alertly enters, unabashed,
The carriage labelled "Smoking";
His frown, his powerful cigar,
His match—all unavailing are.
Yes, Chloë comes, and brings no doubt,
A friend to talk of fashions,
While Strephon lets his weed go out,
A prey to angry passions,
Which, later on, released will be
Within the excellent D. T.