Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/84



mighty towers of Westminster Loom beneath me in murk air, While a vast expanse of street Echoes to loud-hurrying feet Of men and horses, and swift wheels, Where a clanging steeple peals, Where he, who with deep feeling cons The souls of animals, in bronze Wrought majestic lion forms, Brooding, slumbering, dark storms, Symbols of our England's power, Whose dread lightnings brood and glower, Like those fulvous eyes; their claws Are death, hid sheathed in vasty paws. On the lion a child gazes; Grave brown wondering eyes he raises To the form: compelled to leave, With all my sight to him I cleave In departing; often since As from a sickening stroke I wince,