The rain of London pimples The ebony street with white And the neon lamps of London Stain the canals of night And the park becomes a jungle In the alchemy of night.
My wishes turn to violent Horses black as coal– The randy mares of fancy, The stallions of the soul– Eager to take the fences That fence about my soul.
Across the countless chimneys The horses ride and across The country to the channel Where warning beacons toss, To a place where God and No-God Play at pitch and toss.
Whichever wins I am happy For God will give me bliss But No-God will absolve me From all I do amiss And I need not suffer conscience If the world was made amiss.
Under God we can reckon On pardon when we fall But if we are under no God Nothing will matter at all, Arson and rape and murder Must count for nothing at all.
So reinforced by logic As having nothing to lose My lust goes riding on horseback To ravish where I choose, To burgle all the turrets Of beauty as I choose.
But now the rain gives over Its dance upon the town, Logic and lust together Come dimly tumbling down, And neither God nor No-God Is either up or down.
The argument was wilful, The alternatives untrue, We need no metaphysics To sanction what we do Or to muffle us in comfort From what we did not do.
Whether the living river Began in bog or lake, The world is what was given, The world is what we make And only we can discover Life in the life we make.
So let the water sizzle Upon the gleaming slates, There will be sunshine after When the rain abates And rain returning duly When the sun abates.
My wishes now come homeward, Their gallopings in vain, Logic and lust are quiet, Once more it starts to rain. Falling asleep I listen To the falling London rain.