Dr. Ramsden cannot read _The Times_ obituary to-day
He's dead.                                 -- "I. M. Walter Ramsden"

He would have liked to say good-bye,
Shake hands with many friends,
In Highgate now his finger-bones
Stick through his finger-ends.

You, God, who treat him thus and thus,
Say "Save his soul and pray."
You ask me to believe You and
I only see decay.                   -- "On a Portrait of a Deaf Man"

The roll of the railway made musing creative:
I thought of the colleen I soon was to see
With her wiry black hair and grey eyes of the native,
Sweet Moira McCavendish, acushla machree.
                                  -- "A Lament for Moira McCavendish"