_Lavender, lavender! His songs were fair and sweet, He brought us harvests out of heaven, Full sheaves of radiant wheat; He brought us keys to Paradise, And hawked them thro' the street; He brought his dreams to London, And dragged his weary feet._ Lavender, lavender! He is gone. The sunset glows; But through the brain of London The mystic fragrance flows. Each foggy cell remembers, Each ragged alley knows, The land he left behind him, The land to which he goes. The End