Only page of title Moderate
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Poised upon thine airy seat!
Final, ultimate survivor
Of an order obsolete!
Fare thee well! Thy days are numbered.
Long, full long, by weight encumbered,
Tardily thy team hath lumbered
Down each London Street,
Passed by carts, bath-chairs, and hearses,
And the cause of constant curses!
Year by year, more deadly grow,
We shall think with fond devotion
Of thy stately gait and slow.
Harassed, vexed, fatigued, and flurried,
Shaken, discomposed, and worried,
As in motors we are hurried
Wildly to and fro,
We perchance shall not disparage
Horse-drawn omnibus or carriage!
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