By Waterloo Station

By Waterloo Station I sat down and thought
(on a bench not too far from the turbulent stream)
of Edwardian London’s once dominant port,
and of trains puffing by, empowered by steam.
The air was redolent of sulphur and soot,
the era of hansoms and carts would soon pass,
the populace mostly traversed upon foot,
while cars were the realm of the privileged class.
Of headgear - like toppers and bowlers and boaters -
the age of King Edward the Seventh was known;
its corseted women aspired to be voters
and seeds of a world conflagration were sown.
This city of spectral, historical shades,
no matter its present, its past never fades.