Another of our Landmarks swept away!
Another Bulwark of the Faith which clings
To nobler objects than the Present brings,
The money-purchased Glories of To-day,
Self-preached, self-praised! Great Moralists are They
Beneath whose teaching in a Nation springs
The love—or even the consciousness—of things
For which we must do something more than pay:
Fight must we—suffer—hardest task, must wait,
While slowly-mustering Ages consecrate
The Monuments which form a People's heart:
England, who can see thee as thou art,
Irreverent, vain, the fool of pelf and prate,
Nor tremble as thy Monitors depart?