My Native Land, Good Night!

When People Say, "i've Told You Fifty Times," They Mean To Scold, And Very Often Do; When Poets Say, "i've Written Fifty Rhymes," They Make You Dread That They'll Recite Them Too; In Gangs Of Fifty, Thieves Commit Their Crimes; At Fifty Love For Love Is Rare, 't Is True, But Then, No Doubt, It Equally As True Is, A Good Deal May Be Bought For Fifty Louis.

Society Is Now One Polished Horde, Formed Of Two Mighty Tries, The Bores And Bored.

My Hair Is Grey, But Not With Years, Nor Grew It White In A Single Night, As Men's Have Grown From Sudden Fears.

Champagne With Its Foaming Whirls/as White As Cleopatra's Pearls.

So For A Good Old-gentlemanly Vice, I Think I Must Take Up With Avarice.