Explore "The Cries of London" by Harry Graham on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No 'Milk below maid' now awakes / The city with her plaintive pipe; / No tuneful pedlar hawks 'Hot Cakes! ' / No wench at dawn the silence breaks / With strains of 'Cherry Ripe! ' / No cries of 'Mack'rel! ' subtly blend / With 'Knives to grind! ' or 'Chairs to mend!'
The fireman's shout no more we hear; / 'Punch' and his satellites are dumb; / No more, when autumn days draw near, / Do songs of 'Lavender! ' rise clear / Above the traffic's hum. / No 'China orange' now is sold; / The muffin's knell is mutely toll'd!
And yet our nerves are sorely tried -- / Since Nature's lute has many a rift -- / By 'cries' which Tube and 'bus provide: / 'Fares please! ' ''Old tight, miss! ' 'Full inside! ' / 'No smoking in the lift!'
And oh! the gulf that separates / 'Sweet lavender! ' from 'Mind the gates! '