(Dedicated to the Ladies of the Studio,
South Kensington.)
In the gloaming, O my darlings,
When our hearts are sinking low,
When our mouths are wide with yawning,
And our backs are aching so;
When the thought of painting longer
Fills us with an untold woe;
How we think of tea, and love it,
While the shadows deeper grow!
In the gloaming, O my darlings,