A Matter of Discipline

Paunch foremost, shambling, dilatory,

The school porter came to the school play.

Although we call him Sergeant-Major

Nothing of him now is military

Except perhaps his waxed moustaches.

But when he saw those mimic soldiers,

The slovenly parade-ground antics,

And heard the callow actors mock

The old commands, who knows what stirred

Of an obscure allegiance hidden

In his slack nerves, to protest bidden?

Perhaps an instant's brief suspension

Of many years' passivity

His unused muscles mobilised

To stand correctly to attention.