"Bill so long standing,"--"quite tired out,"-- "Must sit down to insist on payment," "Called ten times,"--Here's a fuss about A few coats, waistcoats, and small raiment.

For once I'll send an answer, and in- form Mr. Snip he needn't "call" so; But when his bill's as "tired of standing" As he is, beg't will "sit down also."

This from my rich old Uncle Ned, Thanking me for my annual present; And saying he last Tuesday wed His cook-maid, Molly--vastly pleasant!

An ill-spelt note from Tom at school, Begging I'll let him learn the fiddle; Another from that precious fool, Miss Pyefinch, with a stupid riddle.

"D'ye give it up?" Indeed I do! Confound those antiquated minxes: I won't play "Billy Black" to a "Blue," Or OEdipus to such old sphinxes.

A note sent up from Kent to show me, Left with my bailiff, Peter King; "I'll burn them precious stacks down, blow me! "Yours most sincerely, "CAPTAIN SWING."

Four begging letters with petitions, One from my sister Jane, to pray I'll execute a few commissions In Bond-street, "when I go that way."

"And buy at Pearsall's in the city Twelve skeins of silk for netting purses: Color no matter, so it's pretty;-- Two hundred pons"--two hundred curses!

From Mistress Jones: "My little Billy Goes up his schooling to begin, Will you just step to Piccadilly, And meet him when the coach comes in?

"And then, perhaps, you will as well, see The poor dear fellow safe to school At Dr. Smith's in Little Chelsea!" Heaven send he flog the little fool!

From Lady Snooks: "Dear Sir, you know You promised me last week a Rebus; A something smart and apropos, For my new Album?"--Aid me, Phoebus!

"My first is follow'd by my second; Yet should my first my second see, A dire mishap it would be reckon'd, And sadly shock'd my first would be.

"Were I but what my whole implies, And pass'd by chance across your portal You'd cry 'Can I believe my eyes? I never saw so queer a mortal!'

"For then my head would not be on, My arms their shoulders must abandon; My very body would be gone, I should not have a leg to stand on."

Come that's dispatch'd--what follows?--Stay "Reform demanded by the nation; Vote for Tagrag and Bobtail!" Ay, By Jove a blessed REFORMATION!

Jack, clap the saddle upon Rose-- Or no!--the filly--she's the fleeter; The devil take the rain--here goes, I'm off--a plumper for Sir Peter!

THE POPLAR. R. HARRIS BARHAM.

Ay, here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately, On whose tender rind--'twas a little one then-- We carved HER initials; though not very lately, We think in the year eighteen hundred and ten.

Yes, here is the G which proclaimed Georgiana; Our heart's empress then; see, 'tis grown all askew; And it's not without grief we perforce entertain a Conviction, it now looks much more like a Q.

This should be the great D too, that once stood for Dobbin, Her lov'd patronymic--ah! can it be so? Its once fair proportions, time, too, has been robbing; A D?--we'll be DEED if it isn't an O!

Alas! how the soul sentimental it vexes, That thus on our labors stern CHRONOS should frown Should change our soft liquids to izzards and Xes, And turn true-love's alphabet all upside down!

SPRING.

A NEW VERSION. THOMAS HOOD.