Rudyard Kipling
Choose ye your need from Thames to Tweed, And I will choose instead
Such lands as lie 'twixt Rake and Rye, Black Down and Beachy Head.
I will go out against the sun, Where the rolled scarp retires,
And the Long Man of Wilmington Looks naked toward the shires;
And east till doubling Rother crawls To find the fickle tide,
By dry and sea-forgotten walls, Our ports of stranded pride.