Waken

Waken, the world sighs into light,
A hush of dew on meadows bright,
The sparrow’s call, a soft refrain,
Stirs sleepy hearts to rise again.

From pillow‑soft to cobblestone street,
Morning unfurls its quiet beat—
London fog lifts, the Thames awakes,
And day, like tea, is gently brewed.

So let us waken, eyes unsealed,
With courage fresh as fields unheeled;
For every dawn is Britain’s grace—
A promise kept in time and space.