The Inn of Dreams/Primrose Hill
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 HillWith 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, Amber and amethyst and red . . .And how divine the day has been!For every dawn God builds againThis world of beauty and of pain . . .
Wild heart that hungers for delight,Imprisoned here against your will;Sad heart, so eager to be gay!Loving earth's lovely things . . . the playOf wind and leaves on Primrose Hill . . .Or London dreaming of the night . . .Adventurous heart, on beauty bent,That only Heaven could quite content!