Before the winter's haunted nights are o'er,

I thankfully rejoice, that stars look down

Above the darkened streets, and I adore

The Heavens in London Town.

The Heavens, beneath which Alfred stood, when he

Built ramparts by the tide against his foes,

The skies men loved, when in eternity

The dreamlike Abbey rose;

The Heavens, whose glory has not known increase

Since Raleigh swaggered home by lantern-light,

And Shakespeare looking upwards knew the peace,

The cool deep peace of night.

Under those Heavens brave Wesley rose betimes

To preach ere daybreak to the tender soul;

And in the heart of Keats the starry rhymes

Rolled, and for ever roll.

I too have walked with them the heavenly ways,

Tracing the sweet embroideries of the sky,

And I shall not forget, when arcs shall blaze,

And all the lights are high.