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1859–1930

THE EMPIRE

Arthur Conan Doyle

They said that it had feet of clay, That its fall was sure and quick. In the flames of yesterday All the clay was burned to brick.

When they carved our epitaph And marked us doomed beyond recall, “We are,” we answered, with a laugh, “The Empire that declines to fall.”

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THE EMPIRE · Arthur Conan Doyle · Poetry Cove