Classic Poem

Piccadilly! shops, palaces, bustle, and breeze,
The whirring of wheels, and the murmur of trees,
By daylight, or nightlight, — or noisy, or stilly, —
Whatever my mood is — I love Piccadilly.

Wet nights, when the gas on the pavement is streaming,
And young Love is watching and old Love is dreaming,
And Beauty is whirled off to conquest, where shrilly
Cremona makes nimble thy toes, Piccadilly!

Bright days, when we leisurely pace to and fro,
And meet all the people we do or don't know, —
Here is jolly old Brown, and his fair daughter Lillie, —
No wonder, young pilgrim, you like Piccadilly!

See yonder pair riding, how fondly they saunter!
She smiles on her poet, whose heart is a canter:
Some envy her spouse, and some covet her filly,
He envies them both — he's an ass, Piccadilly!

Now were I that gay bride, with a slave at my feet,
I would choose me a house in my favorite street;
Yes or no — I would carry my point, willy, nilly,
If " no," — pick a quarrel, if " yes," — Piccadilly!

From Primrose balcony, long ages ago,
" Old Q" sat at gaze, — who now passes below?
A frolicsome Statesman, the Man of the Day,
A laughing philosopher, gallant and gay;
No darling of Fortune more manfully trod,
Full of years, full of fame, and the world at his nod,
Heu, anni fugaces ! The wise and the silly,
Old P or old Q, — we must quit Piccadilly.
Life is checquered, — a patchwork of smiles and of frowns.
We value its ups, let us muse on its downs;
There's a side that is bright, it will then turn us t'other, —
One turn, if a good one, deserves such another.
These downs are delightful, these ups are not hilly, —
Let us turn one more turn ere we quit Piccadilly.