[From Manxiana, 1870]
TO MY FELLOW CURATES AT THE DHOON AND CRONK-Y-VODDY.
Five years the wintry storms and piercing cold
Dash'd against my windows, and would entrance find,
Damping my every room, and chill its through,
Breaking my window panes with furious hail,
Thus letting in the winter on our fires,
While we, all shivering, put on cloaks and coats
To gather warmth in this Siberian cold.
No skill of carpenter or glazier e'er
Could stop this deluge; so the plan I tried
Was to put double windows this the plan.
This do you'll beat the storm Old Boreas wild
May hurl his tempest rain, and hail, and snow
May shower his hurricane 'midst lightning's glare
Till the manse shakes, as in typhoon I've seen,
Aboard the "Susan" in the Indian Seas.
Snug-dry and happy, by your study fire,
You'll bear, not feel, the hurricane for you,
Like the Canadian, turn him thus away,
And revel in coal, sunshine, warmth, and heat,
That summers all within with the bright blaze,
The Koh-i-noor as flame reflects on you,
From million ages past, when light and heat
Were found and stored in the deep mines, till when
The times came round to light and move the world,
And shed their lustre on Victoria's reign.