POETRY.
MOONLIGHT IN LONDON.
Lo a monster moon on the borders of the city, Suddenly cast up through the mist of evening, looms, 'Golden, leaning low on the ridge of distant housetops, Nodding like one drunken with the cloudy fumes, 'Turns a drowsy eye like a weary queen of revels On the lamplit streets and the crowd that saunters free, Where in din and splendour the city takes her pleasure, Glowing like a sunset, roaring like a sea.
Lo the moon has silvered climbing up the heavens, On the topmost peak hangs like a white blown rose O'er the sleeping city dim and weird and solemn, With vague murmurings yet in the depths of her repose, Given o'er to dreams; she, mistress of enchantments, Woodland charms of might, on every dreamer there, Every shadowy street sends down her spells commingled With her silver dew exhaled, dissolved in air.
WALTER Ho GG.
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