Nora Tynan O'Mahony

A Ballad of Primrose Hill

From The Windsor Magazine, September 1929.

I always thought of London
As overcrowded, full;
That all its streets were dust-strewn,
Its skies o'ercast and dull.
I never knew that Regent's Park
Could be quiet and still,
Or that the linnet and the lark
Thrilled over Primrose Hill.

But oh! to wake each morning
Near that sweet, precious green,
And hear the wood-doves crooning
Behind a leafy screen.
And oh, to walk at even -
Let nights be warm or chill -
One is not far from heaven,
A-top of Primrose Hill...