Poetry
Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3,
1802
Earth has not anything to
show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who
could pass by
A sight so touching in its
majesty:
This City now doth, like a
garment, wear
The beauty of the morning;
silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes,
theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to
the sky;
All bright and glittering in
the smokeless air.
Never did sun more
beautifully steep
In his first splendour,
valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a
calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own
sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses
seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is
lying still!
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