Lockerbie Street Such a dear little street it is, nestled away From the noise of the city and the heat of the day In cool shady coverts of whispering trees. With their leaves lifted up to shake hands with the breeze Which in all its wide wanderings never may meet With a resting-place fairer than Lockerbie Street! There is such a relief from the clangor and din Of the heart of the town, to go loitering in Through the dim, narrow walks, with the sheltering shade Of the trees waving over the long promenade. And littering lightly the ways of our feet With the fold of the sunshine down Lockerbie Street And the nights that come down the dark pathways of dusk. With the stars in their tresses, and odors of musk In their moon-woven raiments, bespangled with dews. And looped up with the lilies for lovers to use In the songs that they sing to the tinkle and beat Of their sweet serenadings through Lockerbie Street. O my Lockerbie Street! You are fair to be seen Be it noon of the day, or the rare and serene Afternoon of the night--you are one to my heart. And I love you above all the phrases of art. For no language could frame and no lips could repeat My rhyme-haunted raptures of Lockerbie Street.
Posted on: Tue, 09 Sep 2014 16:51:32 +0000
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