Arthur Conan Doyle

«Songs of the Road» (1911). 24. The Empire. 1902

They said that it had feet of clay,
         That its fall was sure and quick.
In the flames of yesterday
         All the clay was burned to brick.

When they carved our epitaph
         And marked us doomed beyond recall,
“We are,” we answered, with a laugh,
         “The Empire that declines to fall.”