The Three-Ten

When in the prime and may day time dead lovers went a-walking,
How bright the grass in lads' eyes was, how easy poet's talking!
Here were green hills and daffodils, and copses to contain them:
Daisies for floors did front their doors agog for maids to chain them.
So when the ray of rising day did pierce the eastern heaven
Maids did arise to make the skies seem brighter far by seven.
Now here's a street where'bus routes meet, and'twixt the wheels and paving
Standeth a lout that doth hold out flowers not worth the having.
But see, but see! The clock marks three above the Kilburn Station,
Those maids, thank God! are' neath the sod and all their generation.
What she shall wear who'll soon appear, it is not hood nor wimple,
But by the powers there are no flowers so stately or so simple,
And paper shops and full 'bus tops confront the sun so brightly,
That, come three-ten, no lovers then had hearts that beat so lightly
As ours, or loved more truly,
Or found green shades or flowered glades to fit their loves more duly.
And see, and see! ' Trs ten past three above the Kilburn Station,
Those maids, thank God! are'neath the sod and all their generation.