p. 25My window waits; at dawn I hark His call; at morn I meet His haste around the tossing park And down the softened street; The gentler light is his; the dark, The grey—he turns it sweet.

p. 25

So too, so too, do I confess My poet when he sings. He rushes on my mortal guess With his immortal things. I feel, I know him. On I press—  He finds me ‘twixt his wings.

p. 26NOVEMBER BLUE

p. 26

CONTENTS

The colour of the electric lights has a strange effect in giving a complementary tint to the air in the early evening.—Essay on London.

Essay on London

O, Heavenly colour! London town Has blurred it from her skies; And hooded in an earthly brown, Unheaven’d the city lies. No longer standard-like this hue Above the broad road flies; Nor does the narrow street the blue Wear, slender pennon-wise.

p. 27But when the gold and silver lamps Colour the London dew, And, misted by the winter damps,  The shops shine bright anew— Blue comes to earth, it walks the street, It dyes the wide air through; A mimic sky about their feet, The throng go crowned with blue.

p. 27

p. 28CHIMES

p. 28

Brief, on a flying night, From the shaken tower, A flock of bells take flight, And go with the hour.

Like birds from the cote to the gales, Abrupt—O hark! A fleet of bells set sails, And go to the dark.

Sudden the cold airs swing. Alone, aloud, A verse of bells takes wing And flies with the cloud.

p. 29UNTO US A SON IS GIVEN

p. 29

Given, not lent, And not withdrawn—once sent— This Infant of mankind, this One, Is still the little welcome Son.

 Prev. P 5/7 next