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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538201" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>London Types: Beef-Eater</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538201" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">His beat lies knee-high through a dust of story- <br>A dust of terror and torture, grief and crime; <br>Ghosts that are England's wonder, and shame, and glory <br>Throng where he walks, an antic of old time; <br>A sense of long immedicable tears <br>Were ever with him, could his ears but heed; <br>The stern Hic Jacets of our bloodiest years <br>Are for his reading, had he eyes to read, <br>But here, where Crookback raged, and Cranmer trimmed, <br>And More and Strafford faced the axe's proving, <br>He shows that Crown the desperate Colonel nimmed, <br>Or simply keeps the Country Cousin moving, <br>Or stays such Cockney pencillers as would shame <br>The wall where some dead Queen hath traced her name.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Ernest+Henley">William Ernest Henley</a></strong></div>

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