The Watchers Poem by Stephen Harris

Around the Semi-circle square,
Entombed behind a bronzen stare,
The silent watchers do forbear
With all those they beseech.

Watt, Priestly, Hook and Harrison,
By rail and sail and oxygen,
Illumine those who tarry on
Through quiet sermons preached.

Eight maidens also give their light,
Half greet the day, half meet the night,
And with the pigeon dark takes flight
Above the city scape,

Then with the birthing of the morn
Erupting into foaming form
The fountains wake a tramp forlorn
And fluid sculptures shape.

Now as the bleary, weary pass,
To go to work or shop en-masse,
I turn my head from pleasant class
To view a higher grace.

For at the helm on noble steed
The prince of Wales gives warning, heed,
Embrace this peace, else death indeed
Shall come upon this place.