Where gather the clans whose only reliance is
Gold and the dross that sweeps down with its stream;
An isle of the lotus, where every-day business
Sails on its course all unvexed by simoons;
No bustle or roar, no mad-whirling dizziness
O'er velvety streets like Venetian lagoons;
A town where from nothing whatever they bar women,
From riding a bicycle—tending a bar;
Ex-cooks queen society—ladies are charwomen—
For such the plain facts as too often they are.