Cried the drake to the ducks, "Here’s a boy with a bun,
Come, make haste! we shall have quite a feast!"
"Would you mind," said a swan, "if we shared in the fun?"
"O dear no!" said he; "not in the least!"
It was surely through fear, not politeness at all,
That the drake made so civil a speech,
For that one penny bun, after all, was so small,
There was hardly a mouthful for each!

From the ducks and the swans on the lake, to next page—
A much quieter scene—you may pass:
Though Westminster Cloisters are hoary with age,
Yet green is their velvety grass,
And cheerily bright are their gables and peaks,
As they glow in the westering sun:
’Tis some house in the Cloisters yon schoolboy seeks—
Don’t you wonder, now, which is the one?