Gas, with its dull yellow glare;
Nought to be heard, save the solemn “click, click,”
And the Editor’s foot on the stair.
One o’clock! two o’clock chimed!
“Proofs,” coming up again, “read;”
Three o’clock! four o’clock! daylight is here;
Trudge away homeward to bed.
Anonymous.
The Song of the Dirt.
(Covent Garden Market, August, 1884)