When I’m among a blaze of lights, 
With tawdry music and cigars 
And women dawdling through delights, 
And officers at cocktail bars,—
Sometimes I think of garden nights
And elm trees nodding at the stars. 

I dream of a small firelit room 
With yellow candles burning straight, 
And glowing pictures in the gloom, 
And kindly books that hold me late.
Of things like these I love to think 
When I can never be alone: 
Then someone says ‘Another drink?’ —
And turns my living heart to stone.