London Streets

Oh what a charm in London dwells
For him who walks her streets with love;
The clang of immemorial bells
Flung from grey towers above,--
The deathless, undecaying Past
In which our days are set,
Preach ever, lest we live too fast,
All careless hearts forget.

Niched deep in streets where Commerce pours
Her torrent life regardless by,
We find the fruit of holy hours,
And see great thoughts forgotten lie.
Not dead, tho' slumbering,--at our need
To pristine life they start,
And scatter fresh abounding seed
On soul and mind and heart.

Lo! Christ the Lord, by all confess'd,
Did mould and sign the works of men;
Once throned, He is not dispossess'd,
But claims his own again.
The impress of His sacred feet
In all our ways we see,
Tho' faint and worn, reminder sweet
Of thine, dear Lord, and Thee.

All that our English hearts hold dear
Find here some symbol, here some sign,
To these dark stones each fateful year
Did her high tale resign.
Walk thro' their midst with heedful eyes.
And what they teach thee tell,
The wondrous past of London lies
In this great Chronicle.

Oh sylvan river, flowing on
For ever to the circling sea,
What wondrous epochs have begun,
What hopes been bred by thee!
Oh Spire and Cross and bridge and mart,
Whene'er I pass along,
Thy murmur makes unto my heart
One vast perpetual song!

Then what a charm in London lies
Let every English poet sing:
All mysteries lurk beneath her skies;
She, mighty in her spring
Of life and thought and hope and aim,
A nobler verse demands,
But with a lover's voice I claim
Her Mistress of the Lands.