Verse > Anthologies > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. > Poems of Places > England
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed.  Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV.  1876–79.
 
London Streets
Pall Mall
Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821–1895)
 
MY little friend, so small and neat,
Whom years ago I used to meet
      In Pall Mall daily;
How cheerily you tript away
To work,—it might have been to play,        5
      You tript so gayly.
 
And Time trips too. This moral means
You then were midway in the teens
      That I was crowning;
We never spoke, but when I smiled        10
At morn or eve, I know, dear child,
      You were not frowning.
 
Each morning when we met, I think
Some sentiment did us two link,
      Nor joy nor sorrow;        15
And then at eve, experience-taught,
Our hearts returned upon the thought,—
      We meet to-morrow!
 
And you were poor; and how?—and why?
How kind to come, it was for my        20
      Especial grace meant!
Had you a chamber near the stars,
A bird,—some treasured plants in jars,
      About your casement?
 
I often wander up and down,        25
When morning bathes the silent town
      In golden glory;
Perhaps, unwittingly, I ’ve heard
Your thrilling-toned canary-bird
      From some third story.        30
 
I ’ve seen great changes since we met;
A patient little seamstress yet,
      With small means striving,
Have you a Liliputian spouse?
And do you dwell in some doll’s house?        35
      Is baby thriving?
 
My heart grows chill; can bloom like thine
Have past from this dear world of mine
      To one far meeter?
To one whose promised joys are worth        40
The best, and more, of Mother Earth,
      And is it sweeter?
 
Sometimes I to Pall Mall repair,
And see the damsels passing there;
      But if I try to        45
Obtain one glance, they look discreet,
As though they ’d some one else to meet;
      As have not I too?
 
Yet still I often think upon
Our many meetings, come and gone!        50
      July—December!
Now let us make a tryst, and when,
Dear little soul, we meet again,—
The mansion is preparing,—then
      Thy friend remember!        55
 
 
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