III
And so through each declining phase
Of emptied effort, jaded wit,
And day by day of London days
Obscurely, more obscurely, lit;
Until the uncertain shadows flit
Announcing to the shuddering air
A Darkening, and the end of it:—
And Mrs Roebeck will be there.
Envoi
Prince, on their iron thrones they sit,
Impassible to our despair,
The dreadful Guardians of the Pit:—
And Mrs Roebeck will be there.