I I Have A Bookcase, Which Is What Many Much Better Men Have Not. There Are No Books Inside, For Books, I Am Afraid, Might Spoil Its Looks. But I've Three Busts, All Second-Hand, Upon The Top. You Understand I Could Not Put Them Underneath - Shake, Mulleary And Go-Ethe. Ii Shake Was A Dramatist Of Note; He Lived By Writing Things To Quote, He Long Ago Put On His Shroud: Some Of His Works Are Rather Loud. His Bald-Spot'S Dusty, I Suppose. I Know There'S Dust Upon His Nose. I'll Have To Give Each Nose A Sheath - Shake, Mulleary And Go-Ethe. Iii Mulleary'S Line Was Quite The Same; He Has More Hair, But Far Less Fame. I Would Not From That Fame Retrench - But He Is Foreign, Being French. Yet High His Haughty Head He Heaves, The Only One Done Up In Leaves, They're Rather Limited On Wreath - Shake, Mulleary And Go-Ethe. Iv Go-Ethe Wrote In The German Tongue: He Must Have Learned It Very Young. His Nose Is Quite A Butt For Scoff, Although An Inch Of It Is Off. He Did Quite Nicely For The Dutch; But Here He Doesn't Count For Much. They All Are Off Their Native Heath - Shake, Mulleary And Go-Ethe. V They Sit There, On Their Chests, As Bland As If They Were Not Second-Hand. I Do Not Know Of What They Think, Nor Why They Never Frown Or Wink, But Why From Smiling They Refrain I Think I Clearly Can Explain: They None Of Them Could Show Much Teeth - Shake, Mulleary And Go-Ethe. H. C. Bunner.