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Primrose Hill
Wild heart in me that frets and grieves,
Imprisoned here against your will . . .
Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings . . .
See! I have found some golden things!
The poplar trees on Primrose Hill
With all their shining play of leaves . . .
And London like a silver bride,
That will not put her veil aside!
Imprisoned here against your will . . .
Sad heart that dreams of rainbow wings . . .
See! I have found some golden things!
The poplar trees on Primrose Hill
With all their shining play of leaves . . .
And London like a silver bride,
That will not put her veil aside!
Proud London like a painted Queen,
Whose crown is heavy on her head . . .
City of sorrow and desire,
Under a sky of opal fire,
Whose crown is heavy on her head . . .
City of sorrow and desire,
Under a sky of opal fire,
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