THE LONDON SEASON br br I still love London in the month of May, br By an old habit, spite of dust and din. br I love the fair adulterous world, whose way br Is by the pleasant banks of Serpentine. br I love the worshippers at fashion's shrine, br The flowers, the incense, and the pageantry br Of generations which still ask a sign br Of that dear god, whose votary am I. br br I love the ``greetings in the market--place,'' br The jargon of the clubs. I love to view br The ``gilded youth'' who at the window pass, br For ever smiling smiles for ever new. br I love these men and women at their task br Of hunting pleasure.