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MURMURINGS IN LONDON.
I
Lone is my chamber, save that gently comes.
To yield her solace sweet, my kindly muse;
Not so the adjacent street, where need and pleasure fuse
The city swarm. There loud-buzzing roams
The busy crowd. There thrifty housewives walk.
To buy their Sabbath store. Unmeetly joined
There plods the female whom no joy refined
Shall ever bless; unholy heart, there stalk
The hoary ribald and the unthinking youth;
There haunts the beggar, and the robber crew
There plan where they outrageous work shall do.
In such an hour and near such scenes of ruth
I think of one whose life glides far, far hence,
And pray my thoughts be worth her innocence.
