Apes and ivory, skulls and roses, in junks of old Hong-Kong,Gliding over a sea of dreams to a haunted shore of song.
There was music all about us, we were growing quite forgetfulWe were only singing seamen from the dirt of Londontown. Poems (1906)
There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden streetIn the city as the sun sinks low;And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweetAnd fulfilled it with the sunset glow.