When London Sleeps — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WHEN LONDON SLEEPS. Thronged the city, thousands passing Down its noblest thoroughfare, Rothschilds with their millions massing, Elbowing want and grim despair. Silks and satins, ragged and anguished, A scream of mirth, a heart that aches, Rogues triumphant, honesty vanquished, All hurry and strife while London wakes. But when Big Ben, with solemn pealing, Proclaims its dreadful night has come, Fighting, cursing, killing, stealing Swarms brass-browed shame, the city’s scum. Swells and women, singing, talking, Through the shadows a burglar creeps, A scream of ‘‘Fire!’’ Gaunt murder stalking, Vice rules supreme when London sleeps. —Charles Darrell. (e(@) =) books.com