charnel vault, coffin’d with crown and armor on, Blazon’d with Shakespeare’s purple page, And dirged by Tennyson’s sweet sad rhyme.
I say I see, my friends, if you do not, the illustrious émigré, (having it is true in her day, although the same, changed, journey’d considerable,) Making directly for this rendezvous, vigorously clearing a path for herself, striding through the confusion, By thud of machinery and shrill steam-whistle undismay’d, Bluff’d not a bit by drain-pipe, gasometers, artificial fertilizers, Smiling and pleas’d with palpable intent to stay, She’s here, install’d amid the kitchen ware!