3 JULY 1909, Page 25

POETRY.

OUTLAND BORN.

So you have been to London Town, And what saw you the while ?

"A maze of winding city ways And houses mile by mile, Where throbs the pulse of half the world In that grey Northern isle."

Nay, heard ye not nor saw ye nought ? And is there nothing new ?

Are London streets still paved with gold ? Is that old story true ?

Oh you have heard the Bow Bells ring, And what said they to you?

Nay, make not of my ignorance A traveller's sorry jest; Did ye not see the 'Golden Hind' On Thames' broad mother breast? Did ye not mark her white sail stir With longing for the West !

Nay, what's the price of England's pride ?

And what the news from Spain?

Had ye no glimpse in fair Whitehall Of Nell o' Drury Lane ?

Are there no ghosts in London Town To wake the past again?

Have ye not ridden knee to knee With Brummell in the Row ?

What jests at Watier's, and what toasts ?

What names tossed to and fro ? Have ye no news from London Town For one who thirsts to know ?

Saw ye no glimpse thro' darkened streets Of Nellie's childish grace ?

Nor at your elbow turned to find Quilp's sharp, malignant face ?

Nor, dark to dawn, with Headstone fared In his ghoul-ridden race ?

Hath London not one eerie hour Before the day is born, When twinkling-footed revelries Affront the pallid morn, When ghostly beauties flit and fade By ghostly chairmen borne ?

Does London stretch no kindred hand ?

liath she no voice for you? No message to you, blood and bone, Of that wherefrom we grew ?- Oh saw ye not the Guards go out That fought at Waterloo? Can ye not hear the hollow hoof, Not mark the nodding crest ?— Oh London Town! Oh London Town!

Your very stones attest—

And through the dawn those solemn ghosts Ride slowly, four abreast!

I see the dancing harbour lights, I breathe the garden smells, But fairy faint I seem to hear The chime of Abbey bells, And faintly far, but visioned clear, The dome o'er London swells.

Oh you are back from London Town, Where I may never go,

And all these things were yours to see—

And I shall never know Through ranks of flaming coral trees The sea-wind singeth low.