VIII SPANIARDS’
Reading edition
The moon shone withering, wild and white, And ruddy gleamed the bars, And far below, the city’s light Streamed up to meet the stars. “Look down,” ses Jim, “them streets that shine, And look, the gaudy sky! By God, to-night, my girl, you’re mine” —And glad enough was I. Oh, why did blow so soft and warm That breeze on Spaniards’ Road! I never thought to take no harm, Nor bear so hard a load.
1913