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ANNIE AND EVA.
Why am I here alone?
Alone! the sun is high,
The leaves on the trees are still,
Birds fly about at will, %
Midst trees and bushes, while I
Am here, on a cold grey stone.
I have left the haunts of men,
London! I look back on thee,
Tired and sick am I,
Of walking along each street,
So cold, so dull, and drear.
Each step makes one shiver and fear,
Lest a murderer's face you should meet,
Or one with a curse in his eye.
"Fool! you had better return:
"Re-enter the busy throng,
The sun points the hour of noon,
Tramp, tramp, along the street,
Mud splashed up in your face,
That this city is so bad,
So foul, so dingy and close,
Yet still so busy and quick.
All London must be mad,
Or one would surely arise,
To remove each mouldering brick,
To tear down hovels by scores,
To let in pure fresh air,
And clean windows down with a squirt.
A Viaduct now is the talk;
Ever think of improvements with dread.
Than see the old streets pulled about,
Fleet Street was bad as a ditch,