There's a barrel-organ carolling across a golden street
In the City as the sun sinks low;
And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet
And fulfilled it with the sunset glow;
...
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I read this poem, and read it on a couple of other sites. It is missing a verse from when I first read it, many decades ago. I am going to keep looking until I can find the complete poem, and I will let you see what the entire poem used to be.