The slimes of darkest London are radiant with smiles,
You can read it in their dear little faces:
So wherever you reside let it be your heart’s desire
To ease the cares and sorrows of all races!
32
She rouges in vain, “Men are rogues, and as shy As grouse in October,” she says with a sigh.
33
When good men lapse the Serpent grins,
When one repents he swears;
And strives to set his former sins
Against his present prayers.
34
His hands and face were swart, and sad
Upon the straw a gipsy lad
Lay: as the breeze his temples fanned
He counted warts on either hand.