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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519138" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Twilight</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519138" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">By W—ll—m C—wp—r.<br>'Tis evening. See with its resorting throng <br>Rude Carfax teems, and waistcoats, visited <br>With too-familiar elbow, swell the curse <br>Vortiginous. The boating man returns, <br>His rawness growing with experience— <br>Strange union! and directs the optic glass <br>Not unresponsive to Jemima's charms, <br>Who wheels obdurate, in his mimic chaise <br>Perambulant, the child. The gouty cit, <br>Asthmatical, with elevated cane <br>Pursues the unregarding tram, as one <br>Who, having heard a hurdy-gurdy, girds <br>His loins and hunts the hurdy-gurdy-man, <br>Blaspheming. Now the clangorous bell proclaims <br>The Times or Chronicle, and Rauca screams <br>The latest horrid murder in the ear <br>Of nervous dons expectant of the urn <br>And mild domestic muffin. <br>To the Parks <br>Drags the slow Ladies' School, consuming time <br>In passing given points. Here glow the lamps, <br>And tea-spoons clatter to the cosy hum <br>Of scientific circles. Here resounds <br>The football-field with its discordant train, <br>The crowd that cheers but not discriminates, <br>As ever into touch the ball returns <br>And shrieks the whistle, while the game proceeds <br>With fine irregularity well worth <br>The paltry shilling.— <br>Draw the curtains close <br>While I resume the night-cap dear to all <br>Familiar with my illustrated works.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Sir+Arthur+Quiller-Couch">Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch</a></strong></div>