A Word for the Police.
Reading edition
HE soldiers of our “City Guard,” Through winter snows and summer heats, From all the soldiers’ joys debarred, Keep watch and ward in London streets. For them no martial trumpets sound, For them there waits no victor’s bay, But on the lonely midnight round, Unarmed, they face the fiercest fray. Alone, they brave the brawler’s blows, The burglar’s shot, the ruffian’s knife; Undaunted, dare a hundred foes, And risk, unflinching, limb and life What heroes, then, have more than they To London’s love and honour right, These quiet guardians of the day, These lonely soldiers of the night?
