The dream-city

On a dream-hill we'll build our city,

and we'll build gates that have two keys -

love to let in the vanquished, and pity

to close the locks that shelter these.

There will be quiet open spaces,

and shady towers sweet with bells,

and quiet folks with quiet faces,

walking among these miracles.

There'll be a London Square in Maytime

with London lilacs, whose brave light

startles with coloured lamps the daytime,

with sudden scented wings the night.

A silent Square could but a lonely thrush

on the lilacs bear to cease

his song, and no sound else -

save only the traffic of the heart at peace.

And we will have a river painted

with the dawn's wistful strategems

of dusted gold, and night acquainted

with the long purples of the Thames.

And we will have - oh yes! the gardens

Kensington, Richmond Hill and Kew,

and Hampton, where winter scolds, and pardons

the first white crocus breaking through.

And where the great their greatness squander,

and while the wise their wisdom lose,

squirrels will leap, and deer will wander,

gracefully, down the avenues.