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LINES TO BE RECITED ON THE CLOSING OF THE EXHIBITION.

AT last the Exhibition closes—but
Most things that open are obliged to shut;
Its knell is tolled by its electric clock,
Which strikes—and everybody feels the shock.
“Happy,” cries COLONEL SIBTHORP, “the release!”
Well, well !—the Exhibition’s end is peace.
That end was gained, and SIBTHORP must confess
The whole affair has been a great success.
Among ourselves—with folks of foreign lands,
We’ve had one general scene of shaking hands;
The whole World’s arms have great JOHN BULL embraced,
But failed to compass his enormous waist.
Grim Disaffection ne’er has reared his head,
With beard, and blouse, and Phrygian fool’s cap red;
Nor formed the pike, nor forged the bolt of fear
By loading bottles meant for ginger-beer.
Still London stands, her thousand, sewers amid,
And Liverpool—exactly where she did..
‘Twas order everywhere, and quiet all,
There ne’er were better manners at a ball
Oh cabmen! mourn the Exhibition’s end!
You ‘busmen, also, should lament your friend;
The arts it fostered—they were not a few— Qscceprosunt omnibus—were good for you.
Alas! ye worthies of the whip and rein,
When can you hope for such a chance again?
With such a multitude of fares to meet,
And such a lot of foreigners to cheat?
Time, the great Showman, soon will let us know
The grand results of this gigantic Show.
A finer taste—there ‘s reason to suppose— Will carve our furniture, and cut our clothes;
Will o’er our glass, our plate, and crockery reign,
And dye our fabrics with a nicer stain;
Enhance each ornament which Beauty decks,
And add attraction to the female sex.
Meanwhile, a new machine our harvest mows;
A novel fire-arm threatens England’s foes.
But all that’s fine must have its day, or hour— The World’s great Fair, or gardens little flower;
And still less time can I afford to spend— So thus I bring my verses to an end.