I

"OH pudgy podgy pup!

Why did they wake you up?

Those crude nocturnal yells

Are not like silver bells:

Nor ever would recall

Sweet Music’s ’dying fall’.

They rather bring to mind

The bitter winter wind

Through keyholes shrieking shrilly

When nights are dark and chilly:

Or like some dire duett,

Or quarrelsome quartette,

Of cats who chant their joys

With execrable noise,

And murder Time and Tune

To vex the patient Moon!"

Nov. 1880.