Flight.

O memory! that which I gave thee      To guard in thy garner yestreen -     Little deeming thou e'er could'st behave thee      Thus basely - hath gone from thee clean!     Gone, fled, as ere autumn is ended      The yellow leaves flee from the oak -     I have lost it for ever, my splendid      Original joke.     What was it? I know I was brushing      My hair when the notion occurred:     I know that I felt myself blushing      As I thought, "How supremely absurd!     "How they'll hammer on floor and on table      As its drollery dawns on them - how     They will quote it" - I wish I were able      To quote it just now.     I had thought to lead up conversation      To the subject - it's easily done -     Then let off, as an airy creation      Of the moment, that masterly pun.     Let it off, with a flash like a rocket's;      In the midst of a dazzled conclave,     Where I sat, with my hands in my pockets,      The only one grave.     I had fancied young Titterton's chuckles,      And old Bottleby's hearty guffaws     As he drove at my ribs with his knuckles,      His mode of expressing applause:     While Jean Bottleby - queenly Miss Janet -      Drew her handkerchief hastily out,     In fits at my slyness - what can it      Have all been about?     I know 'twas the happiest, quaintest      Combination of pathos and fun:     But I've got no idea - the faintest -      Of what was the actual pun.     I think it was somehow connected      With something I'd recently read -     Or heard - or perhaps recollected      On going to bed.     What HAD I been reading? The Standard:      "Double Bigamy;" "Speech of the Mayor."     And later - eh? yes! I meandered      Through some chapters of Vanity Fair.     How it fuses the grave with the festive!      Yet e'en there, there is nothing so fine -     So playfully, subtly suggestive -      As that joke of mine.     Did it hinge upon "parting asunder?"      No, I don't part my hair with my brush.     Was the point of it "hair?" Now I wonder!      Stop a bit - I shall think of it - hush!     There's HARE, a wild animal - Stuff!      It was something a deal more recondite:     Of that I am certain enough;      And of nothing beyond it.     Hair - LOCKS! There are probably many      Good things to be said about those.     Give me time - that's the best guess of any -      "Lock" has several meanings, one knows.     Iron locks - IRON-GRAY LOCKS - a "deadlock" -      That would set up an everyday wit:     Then of course there's the obvious "wedlock;"      But that wasn't it.     No! mine was a joke for the ages;      Full of intricate meaning and pith;     A feast for your scholars and sages -      How it would have rejoiced Sidney Smith!     'Tis such thoughts that ennoble a mortal;      And, singing him out from the herd,     Fling wide immortality's portal -      But what was the word?     Ah me! 'tis a bootless endeavour.      As the flight of a bird of the air     Is the flight of a joke - you will never      See the same one again, you may swear.     'Twas my firstborn, and O how I prized it!      My darling, my treasure, my own!     This brain and none other devised it -      And now it has flown.