Down the quiet eve, <br />Thro' my window with the sunset <br />Pipes to me a distant organ <br />Foolish ditties; <br /> <br />And, as when you change <br />Pictures in a magic lantern, <br />Books, beds, bottles, floor, and ceiling <br />Fade and vanish, <br /> <br />And I'm well once more . . . <br />August flares adust and torrid, <br />But my heart is full of April <br />Sap and sweetness. <br /> <br />In the quiet eve <br />I am loitering, longing, dreaming . . . <br />Dreaming, and a distant organ <br />Pipes me ditties. <br /> <br />I can see the shop, <br />I can smell the sprinkled pavement, <br />Where she serves-her chestnut chignon <br />Thrills my senses! <br /> <br />O, the sight and scent, <br />Wistful eve and perfumed pavement! <br />In the distance pipes an organ . . . <br />The sensation <br /> <br />Comes to me anew, <br />And my spirit for a moment <br />Thro' the music breathes the blessed <br />Airs of London.<br /><br />William Ernest Henley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/music-188/
