No more for me the pleasing sight remains
Of those who thought a fortune here to make,—
The waiter hastening with his daily gains,
And shop-boys raising from the till their stake.
The cabman oft would loiter at my door,
To glean the tout’s last information there;
Invest what he had earned the hour before,
And trust to Fortune for another fare,
And if some wight a heavy stake should claim,
More than I could conveniently drop,