So... is it Lord Wharton's poem or Henry Woodfall's? [insert comment about how it's all a conspiracy and everything's a lie here]
On a side note, I had difficulty getting into that passage. It just seemed sort of... fake? I don't know. It just didn't sound real to me. Sort of as if the author were living in an idealistic world where everything is perfect and beautiful, instead of in the real world, where everything is quite obviously not. Or they were trying to write as if they were. One or the other.