Victorian Gothic, it yet here stands,
Of recent times, but only just.
And still in the city, respect commands
Has the authority of time and trust.

Outside, its fortress walls and towers,
Try protect it against the age.
Engaging its gained and time earned powers,
With ever dwindling arms and rage.

Ambassador still of internal times,
Though outside has changed so much.
And little between the two now chimes,
But here both as yet still stay in touch.

It's the very plot a poet thought,
So emblematic of his home.
A place where in its times past caught,
He would about it in thought roam.

At such a place we'd often stay,
With reassurance of slow change.
Away from home but a home away,
Time would never pointless rearrange.

Things solid built in our aspic past,
Through many lifetimes would remain.
Its adornments would for a good part last,
And an appreciation we'd retain.

This church with pews, full leather bound,
A cathedral to life’s leisure god.
And place where personal peace is found,
Where quiet to comfy snooze and nod.

How many souls have rested here,
Eyes seen what I now see?
As if any moment they might appear,
Be a companion here with me.

Many generations of man and mouse,
Lodged both within its build.
By each unacknowledged, haunt the house
Rooms side-by-side respective filled.

Staff still polish the silver same,
In the restaurant graceful, staid.
Where furnishings as yet lay claim,
To an age when all were made.

Yet now the bar with once a buzz,
Is quiet with expectation.
Still the barman acts as a barman does,
With no sense of indignation.

Hopeful chairs each disappointed.
As so many times before.
Positioned and ready and guest appointed,
Nostalgic eye for the entrance door.

There's a sense of something longtime lost,
Which too late now to replace.
Everywhere with this past embossed,
And all that occupies this space.

Retired and doubtless now long gone,
Creator's hands, which sculpt no more.
Skilled workers it relied upon,
And whom to the future would implore.

That skills which built our country great,
Are never careless lost, forsaken.
And despite their ever parlous state,
Be never from us needless taken.

All weathers and their seasons,
It marks those times throughout the year.
When for lots of different reasons,
Celebration chooses here.

And briefly the place feels young again,
Filled with love and life and laughter.
Before too soon the sense will wain,
Of a happy ever after.

For such reality is a wake up call,
Too many now provided.
And too quickly gone that graduate ball,
Where the old and new collided.

Companions sadly long since dead,
Gone the strength it found in numbers.
Much they stood for now full fled,
Its fight now everything encumbers.

I'll return here soon when next I can,
To its spires and crenulations.
And all that reminds this wistful man,
Of a lifetime's exultations.

A ship long anchored and limpet claimed,
No longer taken out to sea.
Maritime giant to the quayside tamed,
Where thankful yet, still here for me.