Poem by Horace Smith

On Circuit

Two neighbours, fighting for a yard of land;
Two witnesses, who lie on either hand;
Two lawyers, issuing many writs and pleas;
Two clerks, in a dark passage counting fees;
Two counsel, calling one another names;
Two courts, where lawyers play their little games;
Two weeks at Leeds, which wear the soul away;
Two judges getting limper every day;
Two bailiffs of the court with aspect sour--
So runs the round of life from hour to hour.

1. Address to the Orange-tree at Versailles
2. Why Are They Shut?
3. Written in the Porch of Binstead Church, Isle of Wight
4. Campbell’s Funeral
5. To the Rev. A. A. in the Country from His Friend in London

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