Classic Poem

April of the shining tresses,
Tearful month, and laughing eyes!
Where the budding wildernesses
Wait the swallow's glad surprise,
Where the slender
Larch's tender
Green is new and neat,
Most folks set you;
Yet I've met you
In Throgmorton Street!

When the City pigeon's cooing
Takes a soft domestic note,
When the daffodil is doing
Duty in the broker's coat,
When through highway,
Court and byway,
Gusts and sunshine range,
And the racing
Clouds are chasing
Over the Exchange;

What if rates be flat or firmer,
What if prices fill or back,
If I hear your sunny murmur
Of a four days' Easter slack,
Of absconding,
Vagabonding
From the Street's grim aisle,
While its chill stones,
Mammon's millstones,
Cease to grind awhile!