A-walking the Devil is gone,
To visit his snug little urban estates,
And see how his game goes on.
Over the city, the suburb, the slum,
He rambled from pillar to post,
And backward and forward, observant, though dumb,
As a fleetly noctivagant ghost.
He peeped in the Houses of Parliament,
And found but a factious Babel.
To a smile he was moved, for he thought, “They’ve improved