Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN LONDON ON SATURDAY NIGHT, by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN

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IN LONDON ON SATURDAY NIGHT, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Is it not pleasant to wander
Last Line: In london on saturday might.
Alternate Author Name(s): Maitland, Thomas
Subject(s): London

Is it not pleasant to wander
In town on Saturday night,
While people go hither or thither,
And shops shed cheerful light?
And, arm in arm, while our shadows
Chase us along the panes,
Are we not quite as cosy
As down among country lanes?

Nobody knows us, heeds us,
Nobody hears or sees,
And the shop-lights gleam more gladly
Than the moon on hedges and trees;
And people coming and going,
All upon ends of their own,
Though they work a spell on the spirit,
Move it more finely alone.

The sound seems harmless and pleasant
As the murmur of brook and wind;
The shops with the fruit and the pictures
Have sweetness to suit my mind;
And nobody knows us, heeds us,
And our loving none reproves,--
I, the poor figure-painter!
You, the lady he loves!

And what if the world should scorn you,
For now and again, as you do,
Assuming a country kirtle,
And bonnet of straw thereto,
Or the robe of a vestal virgin,
Or a nun's grey gabardine,
And keeping a brother and sister
By standing and looking divine?

And what if the world, moreover,
Should silently pass me by,
Beeause, at the dawn of the struggle
I labour some stories high!
Why, there's comfort in waiting, working,
And feeling one's heart beat right,--
And rambling alone, love-making,
In London on Saturday might.

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