Henry Sewell Stokes

The Burden of London

LONDON! thou more than Tyre a thousand-fold,
Who will take up the burden against thee?
Wilt thou too fall, Queen City of the Sea?
Will all the bullion thy vast coffers hold
Under the Northern waves one day be rolled,
And from thee stand far off the merchant-ships
As from that city in the Apocalypse?
Art thou the mighty city there foretold?
But what say these, so busy yet so proud,
With the hard features of Ezekiel’s race,
Who, like their fathers in the Tyrian crowd,
Mingle yet mix not, while their elders pace
Back-streets with frowsy bags and guttural cry?
Do they of worn-out England prophesy?