Chapter 109 FLEE FRO' THE PRESS

O born in days when wits were fresh and clear

And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames;

Before this strange disease of modern life,

With its sick hurry, its divided aims,

Its heads o'ertaxed, its palsied hearts, was rife-

Fly hence, our contact fear!

Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood!

Averse, as Dido did with gest