And all the streets and all the roofs are wondrous to behold:
Like bees they swarm! From every nook and corner of the land
They haste to render thanks to God for His delivering hand.
In all the way the densest throng at Ludgate Hill is seen,
For there the player-men have wrought a wondrous arch of green;
With them a youth of forehead high and eyes that pierce like flame;
Mark well his face, ye passers-by, for Shakespeare is his name!
So to Saint Paul’s they come, and when they reach the western door
Her grace the stately chariot leaves, and kneels upon the floor.
And, as a solemn silence falls upon the surging crowd,