Chapter VI

At Jack Straw’s Castle, streaks of yellow light
Pour from the bar upon a preacher’s head
Who howls unheeded warnings to the night:
Two p’licemen say he ought to be in bed.

Lonely young men walk, eager, to and fro
And search the passing faces—some find mates;
Against the railings leans a giggling row;
An amorous chauffeur puffs his horn and waits.

The crowds move up and down, white dresses gleam;
Some strolling niggers play a tune that trips,
While couples meet and glance, then leave the stream,
And youths look plaintively at young girls’ lips.