The London "Bobby"
| The London "Bobby" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox |
| From Poems of Experience (1917) |
A TRIBUTE TO THE POLICEMEN OF ENGLAND’S CAPITAL
Here in my cosy corner,
Before a blazing log,
I’m thinking of cold London
Wrapped in its killing fog;
And, like a shining beacon
Above the picture grim,
I see the London ‘Bobby,’
And sing my song for him.
I see his stalwart figure,
I see his kindly face,
I hear his helpful answer
At any hour or place.
For, though you seek some by-way
Long miles from his own beat,
He tells you all about it,
And how to find the street.
He looks like some bold Viking,
This king of earth’s police -
Yet in his voice lies feeling,
And in his eye lies peace;
He knows and does his duty -
(What higher praise is there?)
And London’s lords and paupers
Alike receive his care.
He has a regal bearing,
Yet one that breathes repose;
It is the look and manner
Of one who thinks and knows.
Oh, men who govern nations,
In old worlds or in new,
Turn to the London ‘Bobby’
And learn a thing or two.
| from Poems of Experience by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1917) | |
| A Prayer (Wilcox) | Read at the Benefit of Clara Morris 
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