I Reach The Marble-Streeted Town, Whose "Sound" Outbreathes Its Air Of Sharp Sea-Salts; I See The Movement Up And Down As When She Was There. Ships Of All Countries Come And Go, The Bandsmen Boom In The Sun A Throbbing Waltz; The Schoolgirls Laugh Along The Hoe As When She Was One. I Move Away As The Music Rolls: The Place Seems Not To Mind That She Of Old The Brightest Of Its Native Souls - Left It Behind! Over This Green Aforedays She On Light Treads Went And Came, Yea, Times Untold; Yet None Here Knows Her History - Has Heard Her Name. Plymouth (1914?).