Greenwich Observatory

Midwinter, the days short and dark,
And here, on this druidical hill, the star-citadel
Beacons to the city and the world beyond,
Calling all to the prime meridian of the heart.

Occult science drives initiates onwards
To reckon heaven and earth for men’s good,
As the gimbals planet turns revolutions
That map the void we all are falling towards.

Wise London knew me in my youth
And knows me now; as the calendar clocks,
And ships set out to sea or home into port,
I vow myself to the precious days left, so few.

Friends, have I honoured your generosity?
Family, have I served our altar with true faith?
See, the eternal flame burns here to guide us;
Its green bolt streaks across the night sky.