Provocations
Sweep to the sky.—You would not care

To visit there.

The Grass creeps up all in between the stones

And raises undisturbed its luscious green

And laughs for youth in shrill and ringing tones.

I love it that it grows up so serene,

Dauntless and bright

And laughing me to scorn,

So vivid and so slight,

Glad for the night-shed dew and smoke-bred morn.

My little patch of bordered green and brown

Sleeps in the bosom of a grim old town,

I wish that you could see

Its beauty here with me;

I'd tell you many things you never knew,

For few, so few

Know the romance of such a London strip,

With ferny screen

That slants shy gleams of sunlight in between[Pg 15]

[Pg 15]


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