YE who love the haunts of Town-Life,
Love the kennel and the gutter,
Love the doorway of the gin-shop,
Love the mud about the kerb-stones,
And the drippings from the houses,
And the splashing of the rain-spouts
Through their palisade of gratings,
And the thunder of the coaches,
Whose innumerable echoes,
Roar like sea-waves on the shingle;—