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SUNDAY AT HAMPSTEAD.

1863; 1865.

(AN IDLE IDYLL BY A VERY HUMBLE MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND
NOBLE LONDON MOB.)

I.

This is the Heath of Hampstead,

There is the dome of Saint Paul's;
Beneath, on the serried house-tops,
A chequered lustre falls:

And the mighty city of London,
Under the clouds and the light,
Seems a low wet beach, half shingle,
With a few sharp rocks upright.

Here will we sit, my darling,
And dream an hour away:
The donkeys are hurried and worried,
But we are not donkeys to-day: