At the Feast of Lanterns
Lithely on their strings swing the many-coloured lanterns,For this is the Feast of Lanterns;And Pennyfields and West India Dock RoadAre to-night a part of my own country,Aglow with the hues of the Peacock’s Tail,Very amiable to the eye.
In a recess of my heartIs a poor street hung with lanterns.These lanterns are my thoughts,And they are lighted at the last hours of the evenings,When through this streetWalks the willowy maiden from the tea-shop across the road.