Is made up all of contrast, light and gloom.
It has green hills and parks where flowers bloom;
And shadowed pathways where young lips are shy
And warm hands tangle while the night slips by;
Deserts of humble brick, resigned and drear;
And crowded taverns, full of noise and beer;
Thronged streets where jostle theatre and hotel,
And stately terraces where rich folk dwell....
It has black alleys, and most dismal plains
Crossed by long, steady, fire-emitting trains;