London Bridge

London Bridge is broken down,
Dance over my Ladye Lea;
London Bridge is broken down:
With a gay ladye.

How shall we build it up again?
Dance over my Ladye Lea;
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay ladye.

Silver and gold will be stole away,
Dance over my Ladye Lea;
Silver and gold will be stole away:
With a gay ladye.

Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Dance over my Ladye Lea;
Iron and steel will bend and bow:
With a gay ladye.

Wood and clay will wash away,
Dance over my Ladye Lea;
Wood and clay will wash away:
With a gay ladye.

Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance over my Ladye Lea;
Huzza! 'twill last for ages long.
With a gay ladye.

Walter Crane

Walter Crane was an English artist and book illustrator, considered to be one of the most prolific and influential children's book creators of his generation. Born on August 15, 1845, and passing away on March 14, 1915, he was part of the Arts and Crafts movement and is known for his innovative contributions to children's literature. His work often combined art and poetry, aiming to educate and delight young readers.

Walter Crane

The Mouse & The Lion

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

The Mulberry Bush

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

Puss At Court

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

The Absurd ABC

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Nursery Rhyme. CLII. Songs.

    London bridge is broken down,
        Dance o'er my lady lee;
    London bridge is broken down,
        With a gay lady.

    How shall we build it up again?
        Dance o'er my lady lee;
    How shall we build it up again?
        With a gay lady.

    Silver and gold will be stole away,
        Dance o'er my lady lee;
    Silver and gold will be stole away,
        With a gay lady.

    Build it up again with iron and steel,
        Dance o'er my lady lee;
    Build it up with iron and steel,
        With a gay lady.

    Iron and steel will bend and bow,
        Dance o'er my lady lee;
    Iron and steel will bend and bow,
        With a gay lady.

    Build it up with wood and clay,
        Dance o'er...

Unknown

After London

London Bridge is broken down;
    Green is the grass on Ludgate Hill;
I know a farmer in Camden Town
    Killed a brock by Pentonville.

I have heard my grandam tell
    How some thousand years ago
Houses stretched from Camberwell
    Right to Highbury and Bow.

Down by Shadwell's golden meads
    Tall ships' masts would stand as thick
As the pretty tufted reeds
    That the Wapping children pick.

All the kings from end to end
    Of all the world paid tribute then,
And meekly on their knees would bend
    To the King of the Englishmen.

Thinks I while I dig my plot,
    What if your grandam's tales be true?
Thinks I, be they true or not,
    What's the odds to a fool like you?

Thinks I, while I smoke my pipe

J. D. C. Fellow

The Old Song

(On the Embankment in stormy weather.)


A livid sky on London
And like iron steeds that rear
A shock of engines halted,
And I knew the end was near:
And something said that far away, over the hills and far away,
There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,
As digging lets the daylight on the sunken streets of yore,
The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London town,
The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more.

I saw the kings of London town,
The kings that buy and sell,
That built it up with penny loaves
And penny lies as well:
And where the streets were paved with gold, the shrivelled paper shone for gold,
The scorching light of p...

Gilbert Keith Chesterton

London Voluntaries - To Charles Whibley - V - Allegro Maestoso

Spring winds that blow
As over leagues of myrtle-blooms and may;
Bevies of spring clouds trooping slow,
Like matrons heavy bosomed and aglow
With the mild and placid pride of increase!    Nay,
What makes this insolent and comely stream
Of appetence, this freshet of desire
(Milk from the wild breasts of the wilful Day!),
Down Piccadilly dance and murmur and gleam
In genial wave on wave and gyre on gyre?
Why does that nymph unparalleled splash and churn
The wealth of her enchanted urn
Till, over-billowing all between
Her cheerful margents, grey and living green,
It floats and wanders, glittering and fleeing,
An estuary of the joy of being?
Why should the lovely leafage of the Park
Touch to an ecstasy the act of seeing?
- Sure, sure my paramour, my Brid...

William Ernest Henley

Lines

    When London was a little town
    Lean by the river's marge,
    The poet paced it with a frown,
    He thought it very large.

    He loved bright ship and pointing steeple
    And bridge with houses loaded
    And priests and many-coloured people...
    But ah, they were not woaded!

    Not all the walls could shed the spell
    Of meres and marshes green,
    Nor any chaffering merchant tell
    The beauty that had been:

    The crying birds at fall of night,
    The fisher in his coracle,
    And, grim on Ludgate's windy height,
    An oak-tree and an oracle.

    Sick for the past his hair he rent
    And dropt a tear in season;
    If he had cause for his lament
    We have much better reason.

    For n...

John Collings Squire, Sir

The Blue Closet

            THE DAMOZELS.

        Lady Alice, lady Louise,
        Between the wash of the tumbling seas
        We are ready to sing, if so ye please;
        So lay your long hands on the keys;
            Sing, Laudate pueri.

    And ever the great bell overhead
    Boom'd in the wind a knell for the dead,
    Though no one toll'd it, a knell for the dead.

            LADY LOUISE.

    Sister, let the measure swell
    Not too loud; for you sing not well
    If you drown the faint boom of the bell;
            He is weary, so am I.

    And ever the chevron overhead
    Flapped on the banner of the dead;
    (Was he asleep, or was he dead?)

            LADY ALICE.

    Alice the Queen, an...

William Morris