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