  WHICH is the merriest place to love, Whether it be for a day or year; Where can we slip, like a cast-off glove, The care that hovers our world above? Come and be taught upon Brighton Pier! Wandering waves on the shingle dash, The sky’s too blue for a thoughtless tear; Danger is nothing but pessimist trash, And the morning’s made for a healthy splash: Come for a header from Brighton Pier! Filled with life, see the children race, Motherly hearts they quake with fear, Meeting the breezes face to face! Whether we’re steady or “go the pace,” Let us be young upon Brighton Pier! Here she comes with her love-lit eyes, Hearts will throb when a darling’s near; Would it be well to avoid her—wise? Every fool in the wide world tries, Lazily lost in a dream we sit— Maidens’ eyes are a waveless mere— There’s many a vow when seagulls flit, And many a sigh when lamps are lit, And many a kiss upon Brighton Pier. Dear old friends of the days long fled, Why did you vanish and leave me here? Girls are marrying, boys are wed, Youth is living, but I seem dead, Kicking my heels upon Brighton Pier! Clement Scott. |
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