A WORD TO THE WEST END by THOMAS ASHE

The dead leaves, one-time fair,
Whirl weirdly in the Square,
And in them, fancy I,
Drift banned souls, that have missed
Chance of the heavenly tryst
Of the fair year fled by.

You have loved glare of the gas,
And dancing girls, and as
A new-found paradise
Have pasteboard trees and groves,
And footlight-litten loves,
Dazed your admiring eyes.

And you have made night day,
And, as your feet tripped gay
In dizzy dance, laughed free;
While kith and kin, 'neath dim
Bridge lamplight, slumbered grim,
Or drifted out to sea.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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