England and Yesterday

<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</SPAN></span></p> <h2>IX.<br/><small>SUNDAY CHIMES IN THE CITY.</small></h2> <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry"> <div class="verse">Across the bridge, where in the morning blow</div> <div class="verse">The wrinkled tide turns homeward, and is fain</div> <div class="verse">Homeward to drag the black sea-goer’s chain,</div> <div class="verse">And the long yards by Dowgate dipping low;</div> <div class="verse">Across dispeopled ways, patient and slow,</div> <div class="verse">Saint Magnus and Saint Dunstan call in vain:</div> <div class="verse">From Wren’s forgotten belfries, in the rain,</div> <div class="verse">Down the blank wharves the dropping octaves go.</div> <div class="verse">Forbid not these! Though no man heed, they shower</div> <div class="verse">A subtle beauty on the empty hour,</div> <div class="verse">From all their dark throats aching and outblown;</div> <div class="verse">Aye in the prayerless places welcome most,</div> <div class="verse">Like the last gull that up a naked coast</div> <div class="verse">Deploys her white and steady wing, alone.</div> </div></div> <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />