The waters of the river flow swiftly at Limehouse Hole,
Past wharves, and ugly gardens,
Past beautiful steel ships and tawny sails,
Past clamorous factories and broken boats and bells.
Throughout the day these things are one —
One body of dire endeavour.
But when the evening introduces the night,
This thing is broken into a thousand delicacies,
And the warm notes of night
Make happy discord of the day's harsh harmonies.