nds beside her. He's a prim,
Sententious sage. If she is bored by him,
The lady doth not show it.
But there's a furtive glancing of her eye
Toward the entry. There comes MARX M'KAY,
The Socialistic Poet.

"His lyric theories mean utter smash
To all his hostess cares for. Crude and rash,
But musically 'precious.'
His passionate philippics against Wealth
Mammon's own daughters read, 'tis said, by stealth,
And vote them 'quite delicious!'

"All that makes life worth living to the throng
Of worshippers who mob this Son of Song,
Money, Monopoly, Merriment,
He bans and blazes at in 'Dirae' dread;
But then they know his Muse is merely Red
In metrical experiment.

"Well-dressed and well-to-do, the flaming Bard
Finds life in theory only harsh and hard.
His _chevelure_ looks shaggy,
But his black broad-cloth's glossy and well-brushed,
And he'd feel wretched if his tie were crushed,
His trousers slightly baggy.

"KARL MARX in metre or LASSALLE in verse,
The vampire-horde of Capital he'll curse,
And praise the Proletariat;
But having thus delivered his bard-soul,
He finds it, practically, nice to loll
With DIVES in his chariot.

"Lyrical Communism will not fright
Those 'Molochs of the Mart' this Son of Light
Keeps his poetic eye on.
'Who takes a Singer _au grand serieux_?'
Mrs. MAECENAS asks. So he's on view,
Her Season's latest lion.

"But not alone," I said. "If all this host
Are right authentic Leos, she must boast
As potent charm as CIRCE'S.
What is her wand? Is't wit, or wealth, or both?"
"Listen! That's MUMPS the mimic, nothing loth,
Rolling out VAMPER'S verses!

"VAMPER looks on and smiles with veiled delight.
Boredom's best friends are fellows who recite.
None like, not many listen,
But all must make believe to stand about
And watch a man gesticulate and shout,
With eyes that glare and glisten.

"'Tis hard indeed to hold in high esteem
The man who mouths out _Eugene Aram's Dream_
In guttural tones and raucous.
All these have heard a hundred times before
Young Vox, the vain and ventriloquial bore
They'd fain despatch to Orcus.

"So have they listened many and many a time
To little JINKS, the jerky comic mime,
And his facetious chatter.
But ill would fare Town's guest if he refused
For the five hundredth time to be 'amused'
By gush, or cock