The dread endearing stain of time,

The sullied heart of man.

Mine is the clotted sunshine, a bubble in the sky,

That where it dare not enter, steals in shrouded passion by;

And mine the saffron river-sails,

And every plane-tree that avails

To rest an urban eye;

The bells, the dripping gables, the tavern’s corner glare

The cabs in firefly dartings, the barrel-organ’s air,

Where one by one, or two by two,