Page:The Glugs of Gosh (C. J. Dennis, 1917).djvu/25

Haste by the draper who smirks at his door,
Straining to lure you with sinister force,
Turn up the lane by the second-hand store,
And halt by the light bay carrier's horse.

By the carrier's horse with the long, sad face
And the wisdom of years in his mournful eye;
Bow to him thrice with a courtier's grace,
Proffer your query, and pause for reply.
Eagerly ask for a hint of the Glug,
Pause for reply with your hat in your hand;
If he responds with a snort and a shrug
Strive to interpret and understand.

Rare will a carrier's horse condescend.
Yet there's another way. On to the end!

Catch the four-thirty; your ticket in hand.
Punched by the porter who broods in his box;
Journey afar to the sad, soggy land.
Wearing your shot-silk lavender socks.
Wait at the creek by the moss-grown log
Till the blood of a slain day reddens the West,
Hark for the croak of a gentleman frog,
Of a corpulent frog with a white satin vest.