Yea! "See Saw" shall upset your estimates,
"Dream-faces" shall your heavy heads bemuse.
Because your hand, unheeding, desecrates
Our temple; fit for higher, worthier use.
And all the long verandahs, eloquent
With echoes of a score of Simla years,
Shall plague you with unbidden sentiment—
Babbling of kisses, laughter, love, and tears.
So shall you mazed amid old memories stand,
So shall you toil, and shall accomplish naught.
And ever in your ears a phantom Band
Shall blare away the staid official thought.
Wherefore—and ere this awful curse be spoken,
Cast out your swarthy, sacrilegious train,
And give—ere dancing cease and hearts be broken—
Give us our ravished ball-room back again!