  Of the pieces contained in this collection fifteen are here printed in book form for the first time. The remainder are taken from the four volumes of verse which I have issued during the past ten years, all of which are now out of print. “A Triumphal Ode” first appeared in The Poetry Chapbook, and “Post-Georgian Poet in Search of a Master,” in Coterie. D. G. November 1st, 1920. This great grey city that bred me and mine— Supreme, mysterious, dirty and divine— Is made up all of contrast, light and gloom. It has green hills and parks where flowers bloom; And shadowed pathways where young lips are shy And warm hands tangle while the night slips by; Deserts of humble brick, resigned and drear; And crowded taverns, full of noise and beer; Thronged streets where jostle theatre and hotel, And stately terraces where rich folk dwell.... It has black alleys, and most dismal plains Crossed by long, steady, fire-emitting trains; Foul slums and palaces, prisons and spires And suburbs where the jaundiced clerk expires. But love and hope are always with us, too: And such bright eyes, to make the sky seem blue! All of my life I have spent up and down Adventurously, in this unending town, And magic things have seen at Fortune Green And fairies loitering in a grove at Sheen; Chelsea made crimson in the sunset’s glare; The dawn transfiguring even Russell Square.... And I have watched, all through a summer’s day, The brown-winged barges loaded up with hay, And seen the heavy cargo-steamers slide Past Woolwich Ferry, with the flowing tide; Found joy in travel on a motor ’bus, And glowing worlds Within the Radius! And so, for songs, my heart must needs repeat The cries and whispers of the London street. |
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