Shall flaunt their gems and rare chinchillas
To swell the local mummer's pride,
And every bridge shall span the tide
With Arcadies of Aston villas.
I see, in fact, old London rise
From smokeless ashes, like a Phœnix,
To moral planes where Beauty lies
And Electricity supplies
The motive power of pure Hygienics.
But not in our time (hush, my heart!);