Of that gorgeous Cockney animal, the "swell
And the scores of pretty riders (both patricians and outsiders)
Are considerably more than I can tell.
When first the warmer weather brought these people all together.
And the crowds began to thicken through the Row,
I reclined against the railing on a sunny day, inhaling
All the spirits that the breezes could bestow.
And the riders and the walkers and the thinkers and the talkers
Left lonely in the thickest of the throng,
Not a touch upon my shoulder—not a nod from one beholder—