Crystal Palace

Crystal Palace

In Hyde Park’s green, a glittering dome,
A palace born of iron and glass,
Where sunbeams dance on panes of foam,
And Victorian hopes amass.

The Great Exhibition’s shining hall,
A crystal reef beneath the sky,
Where nations’ wonders rise and fall,
Beneath a vault of light‑spun sigh.

From fern‑filled fount to steam‑driven loom,
Each marvel caught in trembling pane,
The world gathered in one bright room,
To see the future’s gentle reign.

When flames devoured that fragile gleam,
The glass did shatter, iron wept,
Yet memory lingers like a dream,
In echoes where the past is kept.

Now on the south‑London terraces,
Where football fans in blue and red,
Raise voices like the old palace’s press,
And crystal hopes are newly spread.

So stand, O Crystal, pane and beam,
Both monument and fervent creed—
A shining fragment of a dream,
That still reflects Britain’s creed.