Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a smirk and flutter,
In there popped a perky Jackdaw, yapping, miauling as before
(Queer mimetic noises made he), for no introduction stayed he,
But, with plumage sleek, yet shady, perched above my study door,—­
Perched upon a bust of GLADSTONE placed above my study door,—­

                        Perched, and croaked “Obstructive Bore!”

Then this mocking bird beguiling my tried temper into smiling
By the lank lopsided languor of the countenance it wore. 
“Though you look storm-tost, unshaven, you,” I said, “have found a haven,
Daw as roupy as a raven!  Was it you yapped at my door? 
Tell me your confounded name, O bird in beak so like BALFOUR!”

                        Quoth the bird, “Obstructive Bore!”

Much I wondered this ungainly fowl to hear speak up so plainly,
Though his answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no sober human being
Ever yet was blessed by seeing bird above his study door—­
Bird or beast upon the Grand Old bust above his study door,

                        With the name, “Obstructive Bore.”

But the Jackdaw, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spake only
That one word, as though in that his policy he did outpour. 
Not another sound he uttered, but his feathers proudly fluttered. 
“Ah!” I mused, “the words he muttered other dolts have mouthed before. 
Who is he who thinks to scare me with stale cant oft mouthed before?”

                        Quoth the bird, “Obstructive Bore!”

Startled at the silence broken by reply so patly spoken,
Doubtless, mused I, what it utters is its only verbal store,
Learnt from some unlucky master, whom well-merited disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his speech one burden bore—­
Till his dirges of despair one melancholy burden bore,

                        Parrot-like, “Obstructive Bore!”

But the Jackdaw still beguiling my soothed fancy into smiling. 
Straight I wheeled my easy-chair in front of bird, and bust, and door;
Then, upon the cushion sinking, I betook myself to linking
Memory unto memory, thinking what this slave of parrot-lore—­
What this lank, ungainly, yet complacent thrall of parrot-lore

                        Meant by its “Obstructive Bore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, strange similitude confessing,
’Twixt this fowl, whose goggle-eyes glared on me from above my door,
And a chap with long legs twining, whom I’d often seen reclining
On the Treasury Bench’s lining, Irish anguish gloating o’er;
This same chap with long legs twining Irish anguish chuckling o’er,

                        Tories christened, “Brave BALFOUR.”