90111: 'I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair'

I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.
Along the wharves by the water-house,
And through the cavernous slaughter-house,
I am the shadow that walks there.
Yet I have flesh both firm and cool,
And eyes tumultuous as the gems
Of moons and lamps in the full Thames
When dusk sails wavering down the Pool.
Shuddering, a purple street-arc burns
Where I watch always. From the banks
Dolorously the shipping clanks.
And after me a strange tide turns.
I walk till the stars of London wane,
And dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair.
But when the crowing sirens blare,
I with another ghost am lain.