The Menu

I beg you come to-night and dine.     A welcome waits you, and sound wine--     The Roederer chilly to a charm,     As Juno's breath the claret warm,     The sherry of an ancient brand.     No Persian pomp, you understand--     A soup, a fish, two meats, and then     A salad fit for aldermen     (When aldermen, alas, the days!     Were really worth their mayonnaise);     A dish of grapes whose clusters won     Their bronze in Carolinian sun;     Next, cheese--for you the Neufchatel,     A bit of Cheshire likes me well;     Cafe au lait or coffee black,     With Kirsch or Kummel or Cognac     (The German band in Irving Place     By this time purple in the face);     Cigars and pipes. These being through,     Friends shall drop in, a very few--     Shakespeare and Milton, and no more.     When these are guests I bolt the door,     With Not at Home to any one     Excepting Alfred Tennyson.