Classic Poem

This great grey city that bred me and mine —
Supreme, mysterious, dirty and divine —
Is made up all of contrasts, light and gloom.

It has green hills and parks where flowers bloom;
And shadowed pathways where young lips are shy
And warm hands tangle while the night slips by;
Deserts of humble brick, resigned and drear;
And crowded taverns, full of noise and beer;
Thronged streets where jostle theatre and hotel,
And stately terraces where rich folk dwell. ...

It has black alleys, and most dismal plains
Crossed by long, steady, fire-emitting trains;
Foul slums and palaces, prisons and spires,
And suburbs where the jaundiced clerk expires.

But love and hope are always with us, too;
And such bright eyes, to make the sky seem blue!

All of my life I have spent up and down
Adventurously, in this unending town,
And magic things have seen at Fortune Green
And fairies loitering in a grove at Sheen;
Chelsea made crimson in the sunset glare;
The dawn transfiguring even Russell Square. ...
And I have watched, all through a summer's day,
The brown-winged barges loaded up with hay,
And seen the heavy cargo-steamers slide
Past Woolwich Ferry, with the flowing tide;
Found joy in travel on a motor 'bus,
And glowing worlds Within the Radius!

And so, for songs, my heart must needs repeat
The cries and whispers of the London street.