He crosses the road to give them room As he takes his evening beat; He also knows that heaven may look Like a rainy London street. 

 

 

 A LONDON IDYLL 

 II 

 Just to all of us once there comes This splendour and wonder of love, When the earth is transmuted to silver and gold, And heaven opens above; 

 When all we have ever seen with our eyes, Daily, under the sun, Seems like a miracle, happening again To us two, instead of to one. 

 When there is nothing so ugly or mean, But somehow shimmers and glows In that light, whose spring is within our hearts And whose stream o'er the wide earth flows. 

 When the spirit of us that is prisoned within Seems at last to have wings, And, soaring, looks with no common eyes On no other than common things; 

 When we may freely enter and share Heaven's splendour and mirth— Just for a moment to all of us comes This glory of love upon earth. 

 

 

 FINIS 

 S.C.K.S. 

 A book's end is the end of many hopes; Much good endeavour; certain hours of stress When brain and spirit fail, and laziness Thralls the poor body—yet the purpose gropes Athwart it all, and as the horseman cheers His tired beast with chirrup, spur, and goad Towards his home along the heavy road, So drives us purpose till the end appears. Read it who may! Find more or less of good Within its covers, but at least find this: Glad service to a great and noble aim That may be striven for, and understood, And fallen short of—so not quite we miss In our small lamp of clay Truth's very flame. 

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