I will come back to my Eternal City;
Her fogs once more my countenance shall dim;
I will enliven your austere committee
With gossip gleaned among the cherubim.
By day I’ll tread again the sounding mazes,
By night I’ll track the moths about the Park;
My feet shall fall among the dusky daisies,
Nor break nor bruise a petal in the dark.
I will repeat old inexpensive orgies;
Drink nectar at the bun-shop in Shoreditch,