[To THE Eorros Or THE "SPECTATOR.") SIR,—The verses in praise of New Gardens composed by your correspondent in last week's issue recall the lines of an old English ballad which, in its day, was very popular :— "Let's go to Kew, 'tis lilac time, 'tie lilac time,
Let's go to Kew, 'tis lilac time it isn't far from London ! And we shall wander hand in hand with Love in summer wonderland, So, let's to Kew, 'tis lilac time—it isn't far from London!
The cherry trees are seas of bloom and sweet perfume, And oh ! so near to London !
And there they say when dawn is nigh and all the world's a blase of sky, The cuckoo, tho' he's very shy, will sing a song for London.
The nightingale is rather rare, and yet they say you'll hear him there. At Kew, at Kew—in lilac time, and oh ! so near to London. The linnet and the throstle, too, and, after dark, the cry halloo! And golden-eyed ' tu-whit-tu-whoo ' of owls that ogle London: For Noah hardly knevr a bird of any kind that isn't hoard At Kew, at Kew—in lilac time (and oh! so near to London). And when the rose begins to pout and all the chestnut spires are out, You'll hear the rest without a doubt, all chorus-ing for London ! "