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THE CULTURED CONSTABLE
It was a Coloured Supplement
(The frame, I thought, was neat).
It showed a dog, a little maid—
Whose face was very sweet—
A kitten, and some odds and ends.
The title, rather apt, was "Friends."
"Accursed Philistine!" I heard
The strange policeman hiss
Between his teeth. "O wretched man,
Was I lured here for this?
O Goth! Suburbanite! Repent!
Tear down that Christmas Supplement!"
And, as athwart my burgled pane
The tortured storm-wrack raced,
That man of Coptic Culture grew
All limp and ashen-faced.
Then to my window seat he crept,
And bowed his head, and wept, and wept.
