CONTENTS


NOCTURNAL


EVENING

From the Circus to The Square

There's an avenue of light;

Golden lamps are everywhere

From the Circus to The Square;

And the rose-winged hours there

Pass like lovely birds in flight.

From The Circus to The Square

There's an avenue of light.

London yields herself to men

With the dying of the day.

Let the twilight come, and then

London yields herself to men.

Lords of wealth or slaves of pen,

We, her lovers, all will say:

London yields herself to men

With the dying of the day.