The bells are ringing. As is meet, White favours fascinate the street, Sweet faces greet me, rueful-sweet 'Twixt tears and laughter: They crowd the door to see her go-- The bliss of one brings many woe-- Oh! kiss the bride, and I will throw The old shoe after. What change in one short afternoon,-- My Charming Neighbour gone,--so soon! Is yon pale orb her honey-moon Slow rising hither? O lady, wan and marvellous, How often have we communed thus; Sweet memories shall dwell with us, And joy go with her! PICCADILLY. Piccadilly!--shops, palaces, bustle, and breeze, The whirring of wheels, and the murmur of trees, By daylight, or nightlight,--or noisy, or stilly,-- Whatever my mood is--I love Piccadilly. Wet nights, when the gas on the pavement is streaming, And young Love is watching, and old Love is dreaming, And Beauty is whirled off to conquest, where shrilly Cremona makes nimble thy toes, Piccadilly! Bright days, when we leisurely pace to and fro, And meet all the people we do or don't know,-- Here is jolly old Brown, and his fair daughter Lillie; --No wonder, young pilgrim, you like Piccadilly! See yonder pair riding, how fondly they saunter! She smiles on her poet, whose heart's in a canter: Some envy her spouse, and some covet her filly, He envies them both,--he's an ass, Piccadilly! Now were I that gay bride, with a slave at my feet, I would choose me a house in my favourite street; Yes or no--I would carry my point, willy, nilly, If "no,"--pick a quarrel, if "yes,"--Piccadilly! From Primrose balcony, long ages ago, "Old Q" sat at gaze,--who now passes below? A frolicsome Statesman, the Man of the Day, A laughing philosopher, gallant and gay; No hero of story more manfully trod, Full of years, full of fame, and the world at his nod, _Heu, anni fugaces_! The wise and the silly,-- Old P or old Q,--we must quit Piccadilly. Life is chequered,--a patchwork of smiles and of frowns; We value its ups, let us muse on its downs; There's a side that is bright, it will then turn us t'other,-- One turn, if a good one, deserves such another. _These_ downs are delightful, _these_ ups are not hilly,-- Let us turn one more turn ere we quit Piccadilly. THE PILGRIMS OF PALL MALL. My little friend, so small and neat, Whom years ago I used to meet In Pall Mall daily; How cheerily you tripped away To work, it might have been to play, You tripped so gaily. And Time trips too. This moral means You then were midway in the teens That I was crowning; We never spoke, but when I smiled At morn or eve, I know, dear Child, You were not frowning.