A LAY OF LONDON.
Oh, London is a pleasant place to live the whole year through,
I love it 'neath November's pall, or Summer's rarest blue,
When leafy planes to city courts still tell the tale of June,
Or when the homely fog brings out the lamplighter at noon.
I thought to go away this year, and yet in town I am.
I have not been to Hampstead Heath, much less to Amsterdam;