London, the "Flower of Cities All"
As old Dunbar once did you call, -
"Rose Royal and Original."
You that have seen beneath your sky
Long lines of men go marching by
To take the field for Liberty.
What sable pall is dropt to-night
Upon the town that shone so bright -
Shops, streets ashine and myriad light?
And they, your peerless women, they
That are your silent soldiery, -
What fate for theirs and them may be?
And we that are your sons of grace, -
This night we bow like one that prays,
For a man must love his mothering place,
And when the war planes hover near,
And the winged harpies swoop and lower,
We love you most, oh! fearless flower!
- The Sunday Times