Page:Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands.djvu/238

 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 213

She strikes her gong, and with a ceaseless tread Circleth thy time-scathed walls. But stern and still. Thou bear st the chafing of her mighty tide, In silence brooding o er thy secret pride,

The moveless soldiers of thy citadel ;

Yet wide to Heaven thy trusting arms dost spread, Thine only watchword, God! God and the sacred dead!

�� �