A Poem of Progress

Though Swinburne may sing like a siren,
And Tennyson trill like a thrush,
Though bachelors rave about Byron,
And girls over Longfellow gush,
No epic that critics can write of
Supplies a delight that is keener
Than that which I daily obtain from the sight of
A Vacuum Cleaner!

While lovers of music assemble
Each night at the Opera House,
To shudder, to thrill, or to tremble
At discords provided by Strauss,
Such orgies I savour the joys of,
At home, 'mid surroundings serener,
Where daily I hear the Elektra-like noise of
The Vacuum Cleaner!

The hedges with blossoms are laden,
The sunshine is bright up above,
And spring to the youth and the maiden
Gives promise of laughter and love;
While birds, more triumphantly singing,
In meadows and woods growing greener,
Announce to us elders that April is bringing
The Vacuum Cleaner.

Though Time of " Old Masters " denude us,
Though strangers our treasures annex,
Though frauds and impostures delude us,
And counterfeits pain and perplex,
No fate that of Art would bereave us
Can ruffle our placid demeanour,
So long as Dame Fortune is willing to leave us
The Vacuum Cleaner!