When leaving this beautiful blessed Brianza,
My trunks were all corded and locked except one;
But that was unfilled, through a dismal mancanza,
Nor could I determine on what should be done.

For out of three volumes (all equally bulky),
Which — travelling, I constantly carry about, —
There was room but for two. So that angry and sulky,
I had to decide as to which to leave out.

A Bible! A Shakespeare! A Tennyson! — stuffing
And stamping and squeezing were wholly in vain!
A Tennyson! a Shakespeare! a Bible! — all puffing
Was useless, and one of the three must remain.

And this was the end, — (and it's truth and no libel;) —
A-weary with thinking I settled my doubt,
As I packed and sent off both the Shakespeare and Bible,
And finally left the " Lord Tennyson" out.