The Shires

Harmonious hydrangeas were concealing

      The bandsmen from the scarlet and the frills

Of the Corbets and the Heywood-Lonsdales wheeling

      Among the Heber-Percys and the Hills.

Then every name meant pink and brown and stables,

      And household servants getting up at five,

And window-boxes, turreting and gables,

      And gardeners raking gravel on the drive.

The morning-room with sun on pens and blotter,

      For recapitulations of the ball—

‘What did Cousin Celia see in such a rotter?’

      ‘Did Jack propose to Olive after all?’