AH, London! London! our delight, | |
Great flower that opens but at night, | |
Great City of the midnight sun, | |
Whose day begins when day is done. | |
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Lamp after lamp against the sky | 5 |
Opens a sudden beaming eye, | |
Leaping alight on either hand, | |
The iron lilies of the Strand. | |
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Like dragonflies, the hansoms hover, | |
With jeweled eyes, to catch the lover; | 10 |
The streets are full of lights and loves, | |
Soft gowns, and flutter of soiled doves. | |
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The human moths about the light | |
Dash and cling close in dazed delight, | |
And burn and laugh, the world and wife, | 15 |
For this is London, this is life! | |
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Upon thy petals butterflies, | |
But at thy root, some say, there lies, | |
A world of weeping trodden things, | |
Poor worms that have not eyes or wings. | 20 |
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From out corruption of their woe | |
Springs this bright flower that charms us so, | |
Men die and rot deep out of sight | |
To keep this jungle-flower bright. | |
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Paris and London, World-Flowers twain | 25 |
Wherewith the World-Tree blooms again, | |
Since Time hath gathered Babylon, | |
And withered Rome still withers on. | |
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Sidon and Tyre were such as ye, | |
How bright they shone upon the tree! | 30 |
But Time hath gathered, both are gone, | |
And no man sails to Babylon. | |