The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
And O the buttercups! that field O' the cloth of gold, where pennons swam , Where France set up his lilied shield, His oriflamb, And Henry's lion-standard rolled: What was it to their matchless sheen, Their million million drops of gold Among the green!
Globalised Chennai is no longer the hamlet-tish Madras of slow days and early nights, quiet avenues and conservative lifestyles . And yet, beneath the gloss lies the old sheen of kapi-tipan [Coffee and Snacks] and Carnatic music.