The kindly bonds that neighbours ought to keep,
I'll take a summons out to curb the nuisance
Unless you stop it. Can I laugh or weep
For those who fling their challenge at the blighting gale,
Who smile to hear the cannon's murderous croon,
When you go on like a confounded nightingale
Under a fat-faced moon?
The streets are darkened now that once were ringing
Through all the lamp-lit hours with festal fuss,
And songs are changed, and so's the time for singing,