ANTICIPATIONS by EDWARD VERRALL LUCAS

@3When still in the season
Of sunshine and leisure,
While blithe yet we wander
O'er meadow and Down,
O say is it treason
To think of the treasure
Heaped up for us yonder
In grey London town?

We hunt the sweet berry
With purple-stained ardour;
Each bramble one hooks in
Is bent 'neath its load:
It's free and it's merry
In nature's rich larder—
But O to hunt books in
The Charing Cross Road!

As daylight expires in
This best of Septembers,
A coolness comes blowing—
A chill wintry hint!
But—think!—it blows fires in,
And dream kindling embers,
And candle-light glowing
On time-mellowed print!

The glory of summer
One's being rejoices;
Yet hail to this flavour
Of summer's decay,
It's bringing the glamour,
The lights and the voices,
The dear homely savour
Of London this way@1!

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