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Excerpt from Summer Sketches: And Other Poems
[Lilian writing at night in a little country inn. Lights are upon the table, and a jug, from the grotesque mouth of which immense ferns and foxgloves tower upwards, and cast trembling graceful shadows upon the wall. All the implements of an artist lie scattered about the room, and books lettered "Gervinus," "Keats," "Ruskin." A low hum of voices comes from the bar of the inn, and the night wind rustles softly among the trees of the garden. Lilian smiles to herself as she writes.]
"Dear Helen, in your smoky town
Forget not that I love you well,
And often in my studies brown
Walk with you where Paul's thunderous bell
Warns citizens of hour of noon;
This said (because the month of June
Is sentimental, and the moon
Commands our feelings to expand),
I take our travels up in hand.
Say, River God! whose fountain rills
Gush joyfully midst Cotswold Hills,
But whom, thro' London doomed to run,
White feet of cautious Naiads shun;
When daily blear'd by London fogs
Thou circlest round the Isle of Dogs,
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