’Mid the clear bath, unfearing and secure,
May sport at noontide in the caverned shade—
Cold as the shadow—as the waters pure.
Thomas Doubleday.
CLXXXIII
HOLY THURSDAY.
’Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red, and blue, and green;
Grey-headed beadles walked before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s, they like Thames’ waters flow.
O what a multitude they seemed, these flowers of London town, 5