The Oldest Thing In London

A thousand landmarks perish, A hundred streets grow strange; With all the dreams they cherish They go the ways of change; But, whatso towers may tumble, And whatso bridges fall, And whatso statues crumble Of folk both great and small, The Oldest Thing in London he changes not at all. The shoutings of the foeman, The groanings of the slain, The galley of the Roman, The longship of the Dane, The warring of the nations, The judgment of the Lord On heedless generations In plague and fire and sword, The Oldest Thing in London has known them and endured. When London wall was builded And London stone was new, When first Paul's spire rose gilded And gleaming in the blue, Ere Holbein yet was christened, When no one dreamed of Wren, And clear the Ty-bourne glistened And the Fleet was seen of men The Oldest Thing in London was not much younger then. New Londons rise like bubbles, Like bubbles break and pass, Or some dark dream that troubles A wizard's magic glass; A little while they hustle And glitter in the sun, And feast and fret and bustle And chaffer, and have done - The Oldest Thing in London he sees them every one. No stones so strong to weather Sun's heat or winter's blast But time and man together May tear them down at last; The toughest rafters moulder, The stoutest beams decay, But he seems little older From day to changing day - The Oldest Thing in London that passes not away. Each day to her, his daughter, On each returning tide He brings as first he brought her Her dower of wealth and pride; Twice daily, now as ever At London's feet is laid By London's ancient river The burthen of her trade By London's ancient river - Way-hay, you London River! The Oldest Thing in London, whereby was London made!