Glad urchins bob about like bladders;
The fly is cast from Wapping pier,
And over the Pool's pellucid weir
Salmon go leaping up their ladders.
I dream how Covent's gritty bowers
(By leave of Mallaby's line) shall wear a
Fat smile to greet the sunnier hours
For joy of battles fought with flowers,
As it might be in Bordighera.
New Bond Streets on the Surrey side