THE LONDON SEASON <br /> <br />I still love London in the month of May, <br />By an old habit, spite of dust and din. <br />I love the fair adulterous world, whose way <br />Is by the pleasant banks of Serpentine. <br />I love the worshippers at fashion's shrine, <br />The flowers, the incense, and the pageantry <br />Of generations which still ask a sign <br />Of that dear god, whose votary am I. <br /> <br />I love the ``greetings in the market--place,'' <br />The jargon of the clubs. I love to view <br />The ``gilded youth'' who at the window pass, <br />For ever smiling smiles for ever new. <br />I love these men and women at their task <br />Of hunting pleasure. Hope, mysterious too, <br />Touches my arm and points, and seems to ask <br />``And you, have you no Juliet in the masque?''<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-idler-s-calendar-twelve-sonnets-for-the-months-may/
