Ashore At Dover

On landing, the first voice one hears is from
An English police-constable; a man
Respectful, conscious that at need he can
Enforce respect. Our custom-house at home
Strict too, but quiet. Not the foul-mouthed scum
Of passport-mongers who in Paris still
Preserve the Reign of Terror; not the till
Where the King haggles, all through Belgium.
The country somehow seems in earnest here,
Grave and sufficient:-England, so to speak;
No other word will make the thing as clear.
-Ah! habit,� you exclaim, -and prejudice!�
If so, so be it. One don't care to shriek,
-Sir, this shall be!� But one believes it is.