I will not go to tea with you, Mrs Arden,
Yourself, your house, your tea,
These three
Are all acceptable to me;
But oh!
Too well I know
That if I go
You will say
Brightly
How pleasant it will be
To-day
To have tea
In the garden . . . .
And I - poor fool! - politely
Shall agree

Then will my tea be tepid
And into it will things
Descend on strings
Like acrobats intrepid,
Ants with fierce gallop, wasps with eager wings
Will to the jam resort,
And in the cream the game-some earwig sport.
My chair will be so low
(That too I know)
I’ll scarce be able
To reach the table -
Its scones
And buttered buns,
And sandwiches with bits of green inside,
The sun have somewhat dried . . . .

Pardon
Me therefore, Mrs Arden,
And think me not ungrateful
Because I deem most hateful
Tea in the garden.