A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." By Douglas B. W. Sladen |
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 | A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." |  |
Will, as he drove away, had cried
That if they piled the game beside
The fence 'neath which the ambush lay
He would drive back again that way
And bring it home—of course in jest,
Not dreaming that the sporting zest
Of the Professor would suffice
Even one minute to entice
His eyes from Lil's, when they were once
Hidden behind a friendly sconce,
And giving it no second thought,
Though it was piled up to brought,
For Lil had seen enough to tell
How untrained horses hate the smell
Of wild game, but did not perceive
That Will was laughing in his sleeve.
That if they piled the game beside
The fence 'neath which the ambush lay
He would drive back again that way
And bring it home—of course in jest,
Not dreaming that the sporting zest
Of the Professor would suffice
Even one minute to entice
His eyes from Lil's, when they were once
155
And giving it no second thought,
Though it was piled up to brought,
For Lil had seen enough to tell
How untrained horses hate the smell
Of wild game, but did not perceive
That Will was laughing in his sleeve.
| A Summer Christmas and a Sonnet upon The S.S. "Ballaarat." | |