TOWN

LONDON Used to wear her lights splendidly, Flinging her shawl-fringe over the River, Tassels in abandon. And up in the sky A two-eyed clock, like an owl Solemnly used to approve, chime, chiming, Approval, goggle-eyed fowl. There are no gleams on the River, No goggling clock; No sound from St. Stephen's; No lamp-fringed frock. Instead, Darkness, and skin-wrapped Fleet, hurrying limbs, Soft-footed dead. London Original, wolf-wrapped In pelts of wolves, all her luminous Garments gone. London, with hair Like a forest darkness, like a marsh Of rushes, ere the Romans Broke in her lair. It is well That London, lair of sudden Male and female darknesses Has broken her spell.