VIII.
This King was in his counting-house at morning,
Counting, discounting, where stocks fall and rise;
But now, at afternoon, his ledger scorning,
To his own vine and his own fig-tree flies.
Proud Princess Poll brings him the rich Havannah
To soothe his royal soul with pleasant reek.
Pet Princess Meg discrowns him. Princess Anna
Brings him iced drink, and straws, and Once a Week.
IX.
We shall have hints for him, at which he’ll grumble,
“What should an author know about such things?”
But reading on, his Majesty, more humble,
May learn—more wise than several other Kings.
When he returns to business and its rudeness,
And in Old Jewry meets a smirking Greek,
He’ll wink, and say (quite proud too of his shrewdness),
“That is the rogue they sketched in Once a Week.”
X.
Nor to the rich alone, or those who’re striving
Upward for riches, is our sermon read;
To other thousands nobly, humbly, hiving
Their little stores for winter it is said.
For easier than they dream is the transition
From the dull parlour, or the garret bleak,
To fields and flowers—a beatific vision
Devoutly to be pray’d for Once a Week.
XI.
“The world is too much with us” for resistance
To importunities that never cease:
Yet we may sometimes bid it keep its distance,
And leave us hours for holier thoughts, and peace;
For quiet wanderings where the woodbine flowers,
And for the Altar, with its teachings meek;—
Such is the lesson of this page of ours,
Such are the morals of our Once a Week.
