Of wondrous, ordinary things
In words of every day.
To rhyme of rich and rainy nights,
When like a legion leap the lights
And take the town with gold;
Of taverns quaint where poets dream,
Of cafés gaudily agleam,
And vice that’s overbold;
Of crystal shimmer, silver sheen,
Of soft and soothing nicotine,
Of wine that’s rich and old.
Of gutters, chimney-tops and stars,
Of apple-carts and motor-cars,
The sordid and sublime;
Of wealth and misery that meet
In every great and little street,
Of glory and of grime;
Of all the living tide that flows–
From princes down to puppet shows–
I’ll make my humble rhyme.
So if you like the sort of thing
Of which I also like to sing,
Just give my stuff a look;
And if you don’t, no harm is done–
In writing it I’ve had my fun;
Good luck to you and every one–
And so
Here ends my book.
