...or shall I say, Happy Bozday?
The Most Estimable Mr Charles Dickens, to whom we owe a most profound debt for his having greatly added to "the stock of harmless cheerfulness" in the world, celebrates his 202nd birthday today.
Pray allow me, dear Reader, to celebrate with a reprinting of his admirable publication of the sampling of Mrs. Leo Hunter's 'Ode to an Expiring Frog' for your gratification. Such pathos, such delicacy!, is worthy of the great Boz himself:
Ode to an Expiring Frog
Can I view thee panting, lying
On thy stomach, without sighing;
Can I unmoved see thee dying
On a log
Expiring frog!
Say, have fiends in shape of boys,
With wild halloo, and brutal noise,
Hunted thee from marshy joys,
With a dog,
Expiring frog!
~from The Pickwick Papers
A rather random, Dickensian corner, and blog of that most Noble of Periodicals--Humbug Quarterly--which, being neither entirely Regency, nor utterly Victorian, nor yet quite Modern, is altogether Humbug.
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