The Poet Walking by Ivor Gurney

I saw people
Thronging the streets
Where the Eastway with the old
Roman Wall meets -
But none though of old
Gloucester blood brought,
Loved so the City
As I - the poet unthought.
And I exulted there
To think that but one
Of all that City
Had pride or equity
Enough for the marvelling
At street and stone,
Or the age of Briton,
Dane, Roman, Elizabethan -
One grateful one - true child
Of that dear City - one worthy one.

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