Down The Quiet Eve, Thro' My Window With The Sunset Pipes To Me A Distant Organ Foolish Ditties; And, As When You Change Pictures In A Magic Lantern, Books, Beds, Bottles, Floor, And Ceiling Fade And Vanish, And I'm Well Once More . . . August Flares Adust And Torrid, But My Heart Is Full Of April Sap And Sweetness. In The Quiet Eve I Am Loitering, Longing, Dreaming . . . Dreaming, And A Distant Organ Pipes Me Ditties. I Can See The Shop, I Can Smell The Sprinkled Pavement, Where She Serves - Her Chestnut Chignon Thrills My Senses! O, The Sight And Scent, Wistful Eve And Perfumed Pavement! In The Distance Pipes An Organ . . . The Sensation Comes To Me Anew, And My Spirit For A Moment Thro' The Music Breathes The Blessed Airs Of London.