Down In The Street The Last Late Hansoms Go Still Westward, But With Backward Eyes Of Red The Harlot Shuffles To Her Lonely Bed; The Tall Policeman Pauses But To Throw A Flash Into The Empty Portico; Then He Too Passes, And His Lonely Tread Links All The Long-Drawn Gas-Lights On A Thread And Ties Them To One Planet Swinging Low. O Hesperus! O Happy Star! To Bend O'Er Helen'S Bosom In The Tranc'D West-- To Watch The Hours Heave By Upon Her Breast And At Her Parted Lip For Dreams Attend: If Dawn Defraud Thee, How Shall I Be Deem'D. Who House Within That Bosom, And Am Dreamed?