There rise her timeless capitals of empires daily born, whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn and here come tired youths and maids that feign to love or sin in tones like rusty razor blades to tunes like smitten tin. (Rudyard Kipling)

There rise her timeless capitals of empires daily born, whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn and here come tired youths and maids that feign to love or sin in tones like rusty razor blades to tunes like smitten tin.

Rudyard Kipling

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