MUSIC
Down the quiet eve, Thro' my window with the sunset Pipes to me a distant organ Foolish ditties;
And, as when you change Pictures in a magic lantern, Books, beds, bottles, floor, and ceiling Fade and vanish, And I'm well once more . . .
August flares adust and torrid, But my heart is full of April Sap and sweetness.
In the quiet eve I am loitering, longing, dreaming . . .
Dreaming, and a distant organ Pipes me ditties.
I can see the shop, I can smell the sprinkled pavement, Where she serves--her chestnut chignon Thrills my senses!
O, the sight and scent, Wistful eve and perfumed pavement!
In the distance pipes an organ . . .
The sensation Comes to me anew, And my spirit for a moment Thro' the music breathes the blessed Airs of London.
