THE CITY IN MOONLIGHT

Dear city in the moonlight dreaming,

How changed and lovely is your face;

Where is the sordid busy scheming

That filled all day the market-place?

Was it but fancy that a rabble

Of money-changers bought and sold,

Filling with sacrilegious babble

This temple-court of solemn gold?

Ah no, poor captive-slave of Croesus,

His bond-maid all the toiling day,

You, like some hunted child of Jesus,

Steal out beneath the moon to pray.