LONDON.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLIII, Issue 141, 12 June 1909, Page 6

LONDON.

Thou art sad with the sorrow of ages, Thou are grim with the lusting of gain, ffhou are wise with the 1 wisdom of ages, And heartless and heavy with pain. Tkon hast passion no sating appeases, And thy tears are more bitter than brine ; Ye thy voice is as vast as the seas is— O.mother of mine! iThy soirl is more strange than our life is, And subtle and secret with sin. j JEhou art mad with nore madness than strife is, Tliat was mad since God bade it begin. Thou art cruel, and thou know'st not of pity, Yet sweeter than love is or wine, iO weary, unwearying city! O mother of mine! .0 maker of men and unmaker, Thou are drear with the ruin of dreams! .0 lover, beguiler, forsaker, Thou art dark, yet a-glitter with beams. .. . iThy secret is thine and is no man's, Thou hast sin in thy streets for a sign, Yet thy voice is more sweet than a woman's— 0 mother of mm«! —Pall Mall Gazette.